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“THE LITTLE COUNTESS.”— BY OCTAVE FEUILLET. 



The Little (Jountess. 


BY OCTAVE FEUILLET. 

AUTHOR OH 1 

“The Count De Camors,” “The Amours of Phillippe,” etc. 


PHIL ADEL PHI A : 


T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS. 



PRICE 50 CENTS. 


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The Little Countess. 


BY 


/ > 

OCTAVE FEUILLET. 

II 

AUTHOR OF 

“The Count I)e Camors,” “The Amours of Phillippe.” 


TRANSLATED BY MARY NEAL SHERWOOD. 


Oi 

V>" 0C' V '• 



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PHILADELPHIA: 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS; 
306 CHESTNUT STREET. 


// ppv ) 


copyright: 

T. 33. PETERSON" Sc BROTHERS 

1880. 



I 


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EMILE ZOLA’S NEW AND GREAT WORKS. 
L’Assommoir. A Novel. By £mile Zola , the great French novelist. Over One 
Hundred Thousand Copies have already been sold in Paris of “ L’Assommoir.'' 
“L’Assommoir” is one of the greatest and most extraordinary works ever written, 
full of nature and of art, dramatic, narrative, and pictorial. In it, vice is never made 
attractive, but “ Zola” paints it in all its hideous reality, so that it may tend to a moral 
end, for iu it he calls “a spade a spade.” “ LAssommoir” is without a rival. 

H^lfcne, a Love Episode ; or, ITsie Page !>’ Amour. By timilt Zola , au- 
thor of “ L’Assommoir,” “The Abbe’s Temptation; or, La Faute de L’Abbe Mouret.” 
“ H£l 51 ne ” is admirably written, is full of powerful and life-like delineations of char- 
acter, and is the great sensation in Paris. Besides the story, there are many pages 
devoted to rapturous descriptions of Paris at sunrise, at noonday, at sunset, and at night. 
Zola has made his name famous, and he will find plenty of readers for all he writes. 

Tlie Markets of Paris; or, Le Ventre I>e Paris. By jUmile Zola, 
author of “ L’Assommoir,” “ Helene,” “ The Abbe’s Temptation,” etc. 

“The Markets of Paris” is a remarkable w'ork, and is the one which Zola calls his 
very best novel, and of which he is far more proud than any others in his Bougon -Mac- 
quart series — prouder than of “ L’Assommoir.” In it he introduces us to the Parisian 
charcutier — the cook shop — and iu la belle Lisa, the mistress of the establishment, we 
find the sister of Gervaise, the woman who stirred the depths of our hearts with pity, in 
“ L Assommoir.” In truth, “ The Markets of Paris ” stands as utterly alone in modern 
French literature, as it is distinct and apart, from any other work even by Zola himself. 

The Abba’s Temptation ; or. La Faute de L’Abb6 Mouret. A 

Love Story. By jUmile Zola , author of “ L’Assommoir,” “ Helene,” etc. 

“The Abb£’s Temptation,” by £mile Zola, writes one of the most noted literary 
editors in New York, to John Stirling, the translator, “is the sweetest love story I ever 
read, and is a great book, for there is much in the work that is lovely and pathetic. It is 
a work of marvellous ability, not immoral in any sense, while it teaches a great lesson. 
As Zola depicts the innocent love and purity of the unhappy Abbe, one can scarce believe 
that he, who wrote ‘ L’Assommoir,' can be the author of this sweet, pathetic love story.” 

The Conquest of Plassans; or. La Conqu^te I>e Plassans. By 

JUmile Zola , author of “ L’Assommoir,” “ Helene,” “The Abbe’s Temptation.” 

In “The Conquest of Plassans” Zola’s command of language is absolutely marvel- 
lous, and he uses it so accurately that the reader has before him the individual, the act 
or the scene, the hour of the day or night, the very light and atmosphere which were 
present to the mind and imagination of the Author. He makes us perceive the smell 
of vice, not the perfume ; his nude figures are those of the anatomical table, which do 
not inspire the slightest immoral thought. 

The Rougon-Macquart Family ; or. La Fortune des Rougon. 

By jfiviile Zola, author of “ L’Assommoir,” “Helene,” “Tlie Abbe’s Temptation.” 

In “The Rougon-Macquart Family” Zola depicts people as he sees them, but not 
through jaundiced eyes ; he sets down their passions and their weaknesses, their petty 
jealousies, and small rivalries; his heart is as tender as his pen iR forcible, while his love 
of Nature is apparent in every chapter he w rites, and his descriptions of scenery and 
flowers are as minute as his dissection of the human heart. 


CONTENTS. 

hm 

Chapter Page 

I. ANTIQUARIAN RESEARCHES 21 

n. A MAN HUNT. . . . 41 

HI. A CHANGE OF BASE 52 

IV. A FRENCH COOK 64 

V. SOCIETY IN A CHATEAU 81 

VI. REMONSTRANCES 107 

VH. A STRANGE INTERVIEW 143 

VHI. REVENGE 164 

IX. A SUMMONS. 177 

X. FIVE O’CLOCK IN THE EVENING 183 

XI. LETTER FROM THE MARQUIS TO MONSIEUR 

PAUL B 186 




















































THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


BY OCTAVE FEUILLET. 


AUTHOR OF 

“the count de camors; or, the man of the second 
empire;” “the amours of phillippe; or, 
phileippe’s love affairs.” 


CHAPTER I. 

ANTIQUARIAN RESEARCHES. 

De Kosel, September 15th. 

T was nine o'clock in the evening, my friend, 



JL and you have just returned from Germany. 
My letter is handed to you, and the post mark 
upon it is the first indication you have that I 
am away from Paris. You shrug your shoulders 
and vituperate me a little, and then, when you 
are at last comfortably seated in your arm-chair, 
you open this letter of mine and discover that I 


( 21 ) 


22 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


have been established for five days in a Mill in 
Lower Normandy. 

“ A Mill ! What the deuce is he doing in a 
Mill ? ” 

You frown, and your heavy eyebrows come 
very closely together. You lay down the letter 
and apply yourself seriously to the solution of 
this mystery. 

Suddenly your face clears ; a faint smile quivers 
on your lips and expresses the irony of a sage, 
tempered by the indulgence of a friend. 

You have a vision of a scene in the Opera 
Comique. You see a miller’s maid, much powdered 
and rouged ; a corsage, with fluttering ribbons ; a 
full, short skirt, colored hose, and gold-colored 
locks. In short, one of those fair miller’s maids 
whose hearts go pit-a-pat to the accompaniment of 
an orchestra. 

But even you are sometimes mistaken. My 
Miller’s maid resembles yours about as much as 
I look like young Colin. She wears a huge 
cambric cap, which the heavy coating of flour 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


23 


does not render snowy; she wears a heavy 
woolen skirt, so coarse in material that it would 
irritate the hide of even an elephant. 

To tell you the truth, my Miller’s maid is a 
Miller’s wife, and I am often at a loss to decide 
which is the woman — he or she. After telling 
you that, you may easily imagine that I am not 
desirous of hearing her heart go pit-a-pat, with or 
without the orchestral accompaniment. 

The simple truth is, that not knowing what to 
do with myself or how to kill time during your 
absence, and having no reason to hope for your 
return before another month had expired, I 
asked for something to do at the Department. 
The Consul General informed me at once that 
a certain ruined abbey — called the Abbaie de 
Kozel — was classed among the historical monu- 
ments, and he despatched me to inquire into this 
point. 

I repaired in hot haste to the headquarters of 
this most artistic Department, and appeared on 
the scene of action with all the solemn gravity of 


24 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


a man who holds in his hands the life or the death 
of a monument dear to his country. 

I made numerous inquiries at the hotel, and 
great was my mortification to discover that not a 
human being seemed to know that the Abbaie de 
Rozel existed, or had ever existed, anywhere in 
that part of the country. 

While smarting under this disappointment, I 
called upon the Prefect, who, by the way, is 
Yatel, whom you know, and who received me 
with his usual grace. But to the question which 
I addressed him in regard to the state of the ruins 
which it was now deemed advisable to make an 
effort to preserve, he replied, with an absent sort 
of smile, that his wife was far better able than 
himself to answer my inquiries, as she had seen 
these ruins once, while she was at the sea shore 
with a party of friends. 

He invited me to dinner, and, in the evening, 
Madame Yatel, after being properly entreated, 
showed me the sketches she had made of these 
ruins, and which were extremely clever. She 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


25 


became slightly enthusiastic as she talked of the 
place, which she declared to be a scene of 
enchantment — “ extremely appropriate/' she 
added, “for picnics!" A most supplicating look 
terminated her discourse. It seems to me that 
this little woman is the only person in the whole 
Department who feels the smallest interest in 
this poor old abbey, and that the conscript 
fathers of the General Council had given me a 
task that was purely complimentary; but this 
was none of my affair ; I was simply to obey. 

I, of course, was to write to my chief occa- 
sionally, and keep him informed of what I was 
doing. Unfortunately, the archives and local 
libraries were by no means rich in the information 
I required, and, after two days of conscientious 
search, I had discovered two or three documents 
which could be condensed into these brief lines. 

“ The Abbaie de Rozel, in the Commune du 
Rozel, has been inhabited from time immemorial 
by the monks, who left it when it was des- 
troyed^' — 


26 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


I, therefore, determined to go, without further 
delay, and in person force their secret from these 
mysterious ruins, and use my pencil to strengthen 
the insufficient statements of my pen. I started, 
Wednesday morning, for a large market town, 
only two or three leagues from the abbey. 

A Normandy coach, complicated by a Normandy 
coachman, dragged me all day long, like an indo- 
lent monarch, along a road lined on either side by 
Normandy hedges. When night came, I had 
achieved twelve leagues, and my coachman had 
eaten twelve meals. 

The country is beautiful, although somewhat 
too monotonous. Under everlasting green groves 
lie banks of rich verdure, dotted by comfortable 
looking cattle, standing knee deep in the grass 
and clover. I understood my coachman’s twelve 
meals. The idea of eating ought to be constantly 
present to the imagination of any man who passed 
his life in the midst of Nature like this, where 
the mere look of the crisp grass gives one an 
appetite. 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


27 


Toward evening the aspect of the landscape 
changed. We entered upon a level plain, 
marshy and bare, stretching on either side of our 
way. The noise made by our wheels had a hollow, 
echoing sound. Dark reeds and tall pale grasses 
lay before us. I saw in the distance, through 
the twilight and behind a curtain of rain, two or 
three horsemen, riding at full speed. I would 
lose sight of them occasionally among the rank 
herbage, and then they would suddenly reappear 
again, always at the same mad pace. I could not 
conceive toward what ideal end these equestrian 
phantoms were flying, nor did I care to inquire, as 
I was rather charmed by the vague mystery. 

The next day I took my way to the abbey. 
With me, in my cabriolet, was a stout peasant, 
with hair as yellow as that of the Goddess Ceres. 
He was a farm hand, who had lived ever since his 
birth within ten steps of my monument; and, 
having heard me that morning, in the court-yard 
of the inn, making inquiries, he had most obli- 
gingly offered to conduct me to the ruins, which 


28 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


were the first things he had seen on entering the 
world. 

I had no need of a guide, but I, nevertheless, 
gladly accepted this fellow’s offer, whose officious 
chatter insured me some amusement, and also 
gave me the hope that I might succeed in eliciting 
some interesting fact or legend ; but as soon as he 
took his seat by my side, the simpleton became 
absolutely dumb. My questions seemed — I could 
not tell why — to inspire him with profound dis- 
trust, almost with anger. It was as if I had to do 
with the Spirit of the Ruins — the jealous guar- 
dian of its treasures. To be sure, I had the im- 
mense advantage of driving him home. This 
was, apparently, what he wished, and he had 
every reason to be satisfied with my obliging 
disposition. After having deposited at his own 
door my most agreeable companion, I also de- 
scended from my carriage. This was a matter of 
compulsion with me, as a flight of steps, cut in 
the rocks, winding down the slope, led me into a 
narrow valley, which lay between a double line of 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


29 


high, wooded hills. A little river sleeps under 
the slender alders and divides the meadows, 
velvety and soft as the turf in a park. An 
old bridge crosses this river, sustained on a single 
arch, whose graceful ogive is reflected in the 
tranquil water. On the right, the hills draw closer 
together, their green summits overlapping each 
other. On the left, they spread somewhat and 
are less precipitous, until, at last, they are lost in 
the depths of a forest. The valley is thus shut in 
on all sides, and presents a picture whose calm, 
sweet freshness and seclusion are unequalled. 

If one could ever hope to find peace outside of 
one’s self, this sweet asylum would insure it — or, 
at all events, its semblance — for a brief period. 

This site sufficed to convince me that the 
Abbey had succeeded the Hermitage. In that 
epoch of brutal and convulsive transition which 
so painfully inaugurated the modern era, what an 
immense need of repose and contentment these 
delicate natures and contemplative minds must 
have felt. 


30 THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 

I read the heart of the monk, of the poet, of the 
unknown spiritualist whom chance led one day, 
in those dark times, to these sloping hills, and 
who suddenly discovered the treasures of solitude 
which it contained. I figured to myself the joy of 
this weary dreamer when he gazed on this peace- 
ful scene. I understood it and in fact shared it. 

Our time, in spite of its great dissimilarity, is 
not without its marked resemblance to the middle 
ages. The moral disorder, the intense selfish- 
ness, the cupidity and the barbarous violence 
which characterizes that sinister phase of our 
history, seem set apart from us to-day, only by the 
distance which separates theory from practice — 
the plot from its execution and the perverse soul 
from the criminal hand. 

The ruins of the abbey are close to the forest. 
That which remains of the abbey is very little. 
At the entrance of the court is a monumental 
door ; one wing is built in the style of the Xllth 
century, and here live the Miller’s family, with 
whom I reside. 


THE LITTLE COUHTESS. 


31 


There are the remains of the dining - hall, 
remarkable for its elegant arches and some few 
traces of mural decoration; and finally several 
cells, one of which must have served as a place of 
punishment, if I may judge by the solidity of 
the door and the bolts. 

All the rest had been demolished, and the 
fragments are to be found in the houses of the 
peasants in the neighborhood. The church, which 
has almost the proportions of a cathedral, is 
beautiful in construction, and marvellously effec- 
tive. The portal and one or two of the external 
pillars have disappeared, while much of the inte- 
rior architecture, the beautiful ceiling and the tall 
columns are intact and as if made yesterday. It 
looks as if an artist had presided at the work of 
destruction, for a pickaxe seems to have cleared 
the wall at the two extremities of the church, 
where the portal and the altar stood, in such 
a way that standing on the outer side, one 
can look into the forest as through a deep tri- 
umphal arch. 


32 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


I was wonder-struck and charmed by this 
unexpected and solemn sight. 

The Miller, who since my arrival had watched 
each step I took with grim suspicion, so char- 
acteristic of the provincial, stood near me. I 
turned to him and said : 

“ My good man, I am appointed to study and 
sketch these ruins. This wbrk will take me 
several days; are you willing to spare me the 
trouble, fatigue and loss of time necessitated by 
a daily drive from the market town to the abbey, 
and allow me to lodge with you for a week or 
two?” 

The miller, a Normandy peasant, examined me 
from head to foot without replying, with the air 
of a man who knows that silence is golden. He 
guaged my purse and intellect, and finally open- 
ing his lips, powdered with flour, he called his 
wife, who appeared on the threshold of the 
monk’s refectory, now used as a stable, and 
listened to my request. She in her turn exam- 
ined me. as earnestly, but not for so long a time 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 33 

as the husband had done, and with the superior 
instinct of her sex, concluded like Praeses in Le 
Malade — Dignus est intrare. The Miller, as 
soon as he saw how things were going, lifted 
his cap and treated me to a smile. 

The good people, now that the ice was broken, 
did their best to make amends by their thought- 
ful kindness for the prudence of their welcome. 
They insisted on giving their own room up to me, 
with all its beautiful ornamentation of the adven- 
tures of Telemaque, to which however I preferred, 
as Mentor had done, a cell of rude austerity, 
whose windows and lozenged panes opened on the 
ruined portal of the church and on the forest. 
Had I been a few years younger I should have 
keenly enjoyed this romantic installation ; but I 
am growing gray, friend Paul, or at all events I 
am afraid of doing so, although I make it a rule 
to attribute the doubtful tone of my beard to the 
mere playing of the light upon it when I stand 
in the noon-day sun. My poetic sentiments are 
modified and I think elevated. A woman is no 
2 


34 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


longer an indispensable element in my dreama ; 
my heart is calmer, but I cannot, I must admit, 
find entire and all-sufficing pleasure in pure and 
arid intellectual meditation. My imagination 
must have play, for I was born romantic and 
romantic I must die; and all that can be ex- 
pected or asked of me, is that at an age when a 
certain gravity of manner and conduct is essen- 
tial, that my romances must have no love in them. 

These old monuments favor this incurable 
partiality of mine ; they assist me in resuscita- 
ting the manners, passions and ideas of the Past, 
and permit me to at least attempt to solve the 
enigma of Life. This cell in which I now write, 
is haunted each night by serge robes and worn 
faces. A Monk appears, sometimes kneeling in 
the dark corner on the worn stones, with eyes 
uplifted in an ecstasy of faith, or with his elbows 
on that oak window-sill blackened by time, paint- 
ing on well-worn and illuminating missals, or 
pursuing some fleeting scientific theory until he 
trembles on the verge of the Black Art. Another 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


35 


phantom, standing near the window, rivets his 
eyes on the leafy woods which recall to him the 
cavaliers and the dames of his old hunting days. 

You may say what you please, I am very fond 
of Monks ; not those stout and jolly fellows, how- 
ever, who delighted our forefathers, but do not 
delight me. I love and venerate that ancient 
Monastic society such as I imagine it, which alone 
preserved — amid barbarous surroundings — a 
taste for study and mental cultivation, opening a 
refuge, and the only one possible at such an 
epoch, for a man with a ray of genius. 

How many poets, savants and artists — how 
many inventors had reason to bless for ten cen- 
turies these blessed asylums — which preserved 
them from the poverty and bestial life of the 
tillers of the ground. 

The abbey gladly extended its sheltering arms 
to these thinkers, however poor or low-born, and 
aided them in the development of their various 
tastes ; assuring them of their daily bread, and of 
proper application of their efforts. Although 


36 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


their cell was narrow, they exercised freely the 
faculties implanted by their Maker. 

That the cloister, later on, set aside these noble, 
severe traditions and degenerated, is unquestion- 
ably true; it yielded to the common destiny 
which attends all things and institutions which 
have done their appointed tasks, and which sur- 
vive their accomplished work. The Gallic test 
of the emancipated Bourgeois, assisted by the 
spirit of reform, has drawn more caricatures than 
portraits of our old abbeys. However that may 
be, while reading Rabelais, no man of taste can 
forget that during that dark night of the Middle 
ages, the last ray of intellectual light lighted the 
pale brow of the monk. 

Up to this time I have not only been quite 
content in my solitude, but must even confess to 
enjoying it. It seems to me that I am a thousand 
leagues away from the life of every day, and that 
it is a happy break in the dull routine of an 
existence, so monotonously full of petty cares as 
is mine. I enjoy my complete independence 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 37 

with the boyish enthusiasm of a Kobinson Crusoe, 
aged twelve. 

I draw what I please, and the rest of the time 
I wander about, taking great care however, 
never to pass the boundaries of this sacred valley. 
I sit on the parapet of the bridge and watch the 
water rolling below. I explore the ruins, bury 
myself in the vaults, or climb to the broken 
belfry. One day I could not get down, and cut 
a most ridiculous figure, seated astride the gar- 
goyle, waiting for the Miller to bring a ladder ! I 
roam all night in the forest and see the hares 
scamper about in the moonlight. It all soothes 
and vaguely amuses me. It is like a childish 
dream, realized in my ripe manhood. 

Your letter, dated from Cologne, according to 
my instructions was forwarded to me here, and 
is the only thing that has marred my bliss, for it 
is with difficulty that I can console myself for 
leaving Paris on the very eve of your return. 

May the deuce take your caprice and your 
indecision ! All I can do now, is to hurry 


38 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


through my work; but where shall I find the 
historical documents I require ? 

I earnestly wish to rescue these ruins from 
oblivion and destruction. It is a place of rare 
beauty — a priceless picture which it would be 
sheer Vandalism to allow to perish. 

And I love the Monks as I told you before, and 
wish to render to their shadows this homage of 
sympathy. Had I lived a thousand years ago I 
should have certainly sought among them the 
repose of the cloister while awaiting the peace of 
Heaven. 

I can think of no existence which would 
have pleased me better — with no care for 
this world and assured of the other — with no 
anxieties of heart or mind — I should have writ- 
ten down in calmness, the innumerable legends 
which I heard with credulous ears; I should 
have deciphered old manuscripts, and wept 
over the Iliad and jEneid. I should have 
designed the most magnificent cathedrals, and 
busied myself with my crucibles, and stills, 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


39 


and perhaps invented gunpowder — who can 
tell! 

But it is midnight; I will say good night to 
the spectre monk in the corner, for it is quite 
time that we were all asleep. 

P. S. There are spectres ! I closed this letter, 
my friend, amid solemn silence — when all at 
once my ears were filled with strange confused 
noises which seemed to come from without — like 
the approach of a crowd. In great surprise I 
went to the window of the cell, and it would be 
quite impossible for me to describe the precise 
nature of the emotion with which I saw the ruined 
church lighted resplendently ; while through the 
vast portal and the ogives, the light streamed 
upon the dark forest. It was not, it could not be 
a fire, I said to myself. 

I saw shadows, superhuman in height passing 
up the nave, apparently performing to some 
strange rhythm, an equally strange ceremony. 
I threw open my window ; at the same moment 
loud bugle calls resounded through the ruin and 


40 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


rang through the valley awakening all its echoes, 
after which I saw come out of the church a 
double file of cavaliers carrying torches and 
winding their horns. Some of these figures were 
clad in red, others draped in black with plumes 
upon their heads. 

This strange procession took — preserving the 
same order and with the same wild music, — the 
shady road along the meadow. 

On reaching the little bridge, they all came 
to a halt — I saw the torches lifted high in the 
air, and wildly shaken, a shower of sparks flew in 
every direction. There was one wild prolonged 
bugle call ; then, all at once the light disappeared, 
and there was not a sound. The whole valley 
seemed buried in the silence and darkness of mid- 
night. I assure you that this is precisely what I 
heard, and saw. 

You have come from Germany lately. Did 
you ever meet the Black Huntsman there ? 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


41 


CHAPTER n. 

A MAN HUNT. 

' September 16th. 

T HE forest formerly attached to the abbey 
belongs now to a wealthy nobleman of the 
vicinity — the Marquis de Malonet, a descendant of 
Nimrod, whose chateau seems the social centre of 
the country. Almost every day at this season there 
is a hunt in the forest. Yesterday, the jete ended 
by a supper and a return home by torch-light. 

I would gladly have strangled the honest 
Miller, who gave me, in the morning, this com- 
monplace explanation of my midnight ballad. 

The world had invaded, with all its pomps, my 
beloved solitude. I cursed them all, Paul, from 
the depth of my heart. I owe them, to be sure, 
the fantastic apparitions of last night, which 
charmed me greatly, but I am also indebted to 
them for a most ridiculous adventure, at which I 
cannot laugh, as I am, unfortunately, its hero. 


42 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


I was this morning ill disposed for work. I 
generally draw until noon, but I found it impos- 
sible to-day. My head was heavy and I was most 
atrociously out of humor. I felt something in the 
air and was sure that some disagreeable event was 
impending. 

I went to the mill to leave my drawing mate- 
rials. I made some rude remark to the surprised 
woman in regard to some indigenous dish she had 
given me for my breakfast; I was cross to the 
children, who fingered my pencils, and, finally, 
gave the dog a kick. 

Utterly dissatisfied with myself, as you may 
well imagine, I went to the forest to conceal my- 
self as much as possible from the searching light 
of day. I walked for over an hour without being 
able to shake off the prophetic melancholy which 
weighed down my spirits. Finding, at last, a thick 
bed of moss under the shade of some wide-spread- 
ing beeches, I threw myself down, with the 
burthen of my remorse and ill-temper, and slept 
profoundly. 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


43 


Good heavens ! Why was it not the long, last 
sleep of death ! 

I know not how long I slept, when I was 
awakened suddenly by a dull noise that appa- 
rently ran along the ground. I started up and 
saw, within a stone’s throw, a young girl on 
horseback. My sudden appearance terrified the 
horse, who sheered. The lady, who apparently 
had not seen me, soothed the animal and brought 
him back to the path. She struck me as pretty, 
slender and elegant. I caught a ‘brief glimpse 
of blonde hair, eyebrows of a deeper hue, bright 
eyes, with a bold expression. A felt hat, with 
a blue feather, was worn coquettishly, a little on 
one side. 

In order that you should fully understand what 
followed, I must tell you that I was dressed in a 
tourist’s blouse, considerably smirched with red 
ochre, and, I presume, had that wild, startled air 
common to a person who is suddenly awakened 
from sleep, and gives him an expression which is 
both droll and alarming. 


44 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


Added to this, you must figure to yourself dis- 
ordered hair, a beard to which hung more than 
one dead leaf, and you will have no difficulty in 
understanding the terror that seized the fair 
Amazon when she looked at me. She uttered a 
faint shriek, and, turning short around, touched 
her horse with her whip, and was gone like the 
wind. 

It was quite impossible for me to misunderstand 
the impression I had made, that was far from 
flattering. But, fortunately, I am thirty-five, 
and the glances of a woman, be they more or 
less kindly, do not disturb the serenity of my 
soul. 

I smiled faintly as I watched her fleet retreat. 
At the end of the avenue — where I certainly had 
not made a conquest — she turned suddenly to the 
left and then into a parallel avenue. I only had 
to cross a short space of underbrush to see her 
join a cavalcade, composed of ten or twelve 
persons, who seemed to be waiting for her, and 
to whom she cried out, in an agonized voice : 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 45 

tc Gentlemen ! gentlemen ! a savage ! There is 
a savage in the forest ! ” 

Considerably interested by this, I crept along 
under the shelter of the trees until I could hear all 
that was said. The lady was quickly surrounded. 
At first, her friends thought her jesting, but it 
was quickly seen that her emotion was sincere. 

She reiterated that she had clearly seen — not 
a savage precisely, but a man, whose ragged 
blouse was covered with blood, and whose face 
and hands were frightfully dirty; whose beard 
was bushy and whose eyes were starting from his 
head — in short, an individual near whom the 
most atrocious brigand of Salvator Rosa would 
look like of one Watteau’s peasants. Never was a 
man’s vanity so crushed as mine ! This charming 
personage added that I had threatened her, and 
that I, like the spectre in the forest of Manz, had 
thrown myself at the head of her horse and tried 
to snatch the bridle. 

At this marvellous recital a general cry of 
enthusiasm was heard. 


46 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


“ Let us hunt him ! ” they said. “ Let us find 
out where he is secreted ! ” 

And, thereupon, all these people set out at full 
gallop, under the direction of my amiable acquaint- 
ance. 

If I had remained quietly in my concealment, 
the huntsmen would have gone entirely astray, as 
they went to look for me in the avenue where I 
had seen the Amazon. Unfortunately, I had 
taken it into my head that I should be safer in 
the underbrush opposite. As I cautiously crossed 
the road, a shout of wild joy told me I had been 
seen. At the same time, the whole squadron 
wheeled and came back to me with the mad 
rush of a mountain torrent. 

There was but one reasonable thing for me to 
have done, and that was to stop and affect the 
utter astonishment of an innocent pedestrian who 
is rudely accosted, disconcerting my adversaries 
by my dignity; but, seized by a feeling of the 
most foolish shame, which it is easier for you to 
imagine than for me to explain, I committed the 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


47 


error — the deplorable error — of quickening my 
pace, or rather, to be frank, of running as fast as 
my legs would take me. I crossed the road like 
a hare and rushed into the depths of the forest, 
followed by a salvo of joyous shouts. 

My fate was sealed from this moment. All 
honorable and dignified explanation became im- 
possible. I had accepted the contest with every 
chance against me. 

I still retained a certain amount of sang fr oid, 
and as I rushed through the woods, I consoled 
myself with the reassuring reflection that it was 
impossible for cavalry to follow, and that I should 
soon be so far in advance that I could afford to 
stop and laugh at my foes and their vain efforts. 
This delusion vanished, however, when I suddenly 
discovered that this confounded troop had divided 
and were awaiting me at either end. When I was 
seen, a new tempest of shouts and laughs arose 
and bugles sounded on all sides. 

I was absolutely dizzy. The very forest swam 
before my eyes. I dashed into the first path 


48 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


which offered itself to my eyes, and my flight 
assumed the character of a despairing rout. 

The mounted band of ladies and gentlemen fol- 
lowed me with renewed ardor and stupid gayety. 

I distinguished the lady with the blue plume at 
their head, and I heartily wished, in their reck- 
less riding, that the beast would throw her. It 
was she who encouraged her companions when 
for a moment they lost my traces. She discovered 
me with a clairvoyance that was absolutely infer- 
nal, pointing me out with her whip and uttering 
a little shriek of laughter when she saw me again 
resume my flight — breathless, panting and ridicu- 
lous ! 

I ran thus for a long time, and as you will 
readily believe, accomplishing the most unheard 
of feats in gymnastics, tearing my flesh and my 
garments among the thorns, leaping ditches with 
the elasticity of a tiger, keeping up this fiendish 
gallop without aim or reason, and with no 
other hope than that the earth would open and 
swallow me. 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 49 

At last, and by the merest accident, for I had 
lost all topographical notions, I suddenly per- 
ceived the ruins before me ; I crossed with one 
mad leap the open space which divided them from 
the forest, and rushed through the church as if I 
had just been excommunicated, and reached the 
Miller’s door, heated and panting. 

The Miller and his wife were standing on the 
sill ; they had heard the uproar and now looked at 
me in utter astonishment ; I vainly sought to find 
a word or two of explanation which I could 
throw at them, but could only murmur : 

“ If any one asks for me — say that I am not 
here ! ” 

Then I hastily ascended the stairs and fell on 
my bed, half unconscious. 

Meanwhile, my dear friend, my foes crowded 
into the court yard of the old Abbey; I heard 
the pawing of the horses, the voices of the 
cavaliers and even the sound of their heels on 
the stones, which proved to me that some of 
the party had dismounted, and were meditating 
3 


50 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


still further investigation. I started up at this 
with a movement of rage, and looked for my 
pistols. 

Fortunately, however, after a little conversa- 
tion with my Miller, the cavaliers retired, not 
without allowing me clearly to understand that if 
they took away with them a better opinion of my 
morals, they were also considerably exercised by 
the originality of my character. 

Such, my friend, is the faithful history of this 
miserable day which has covered me from head 
to foot with that which every Frenchman abhors 
more than anything in the world. 

I have at this hour the satisfaction of knowing 
that in a neighboring chateau amid a circle of 
brilliant cavaliers and beautiful women — I am 
the subject of endless jests. I feel, moreover, 
ever since my flank movement (I believe this is 
the phrase used in war to express a precipitate 
retreat) that I have lost in my own eyes some-\ 
thing of my own dignity, and I cannot conceal 
from myself moreover, that I am far from enjoy- 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 51 

in g with my rustic hosts the same consideration 
as heretofore. 

In this compromising situation, I held counsel 
with myself: after a short deliberation I threw 
aside as puerile and pusillanimous, the idea sug- 
gested by my wounded pride, that of leaving the 
place at once and even turning my back on the 
whole province. 

I finally decided to pursue philosophically my 
labors and my pleasures, to show a spirit superior 
to circumstances and to offer to the Amazons, 
the Cavaliers, and the Millers, the edifying 
spectacle of a sage in adversity. 


52 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


CHAPTER III. 

A CHANGE OF BASE. 

September 20th. 

I have just received your letter, my dear fel- 
low! Who would ever have thought you 
could be guilty of such childishness ? And this is 
the cause of your sudden return ! a mere noth- 
ing — a nightmare in which, two nights in succes- 
sion — you heard my voice calling to you for 
help. 

All this was the result of your detestable Ger- 
man cuisine ! You are a simpleton, Paul — an 
absolute simpleton — and yet you say things 
sometimes which bring tears to my eyes. I hardly 
know how to reply to you, my heart is tender 
but my verbs are tough. I never could say to 
any one “I love you.” There is some jealous 
demon who gives to every word of tenderness as 
it drops from my lips, an inflection of irony. But, 
heaven be thanked, you know me. It seems to 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


53 


me that I make you laugh, when you make me 
weep — all right ! 

My adventure in the forest is not without its 
consequences — all the evils with which you 
believed me to be threatened, have duly arrived; 
so be at ease. 

The day following the disastrous one of which 
I wrote, I was fortunate enough to regain the 
good graces of the Miller and his wife by rela- 
ting to them, as a capital joke all the misadven- 
tures of my race. 

They nearly died with laughter. The woman, 
especially, opened her formidable jaws with the 
most frightful contortions. Never did I behold 
anything quite so hideous as her amusement. As 
an indication of his returning confidence, the 
Miller asked me if I was a huntsman, and took 
down from the chimney a long gun, which made 
me think of the carbine of Bas-de-Cuir. He 
placed it carefully in my hands, boasting of its 
murderous qualities, and I accepted his politeness 
with apparent thankfulness and satisfaction, never 


54 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


having the heart to undeceive people who think 
they are doing me a favor. I then, with fear 
and trembling, carrying this formidable weapon 
with the most tender care, went off into the 
woods, where I took a seat under a tree and laid 
the long gun down by my side. I sat there for 
some time, amusing myself by throwing gravel at 
the young rabbits, who were playing imprudently 
around this old instrument of warfare. Thanks 
to my precautions, no harm happened to myself 
nor to the game for more than an hour. 

To tell you the truth, I wished to keep myself 
in seclusion until the guests at the chateau had 
started off on their day's excursion, as I did not 
care to encounter them again. About two in the 
afternoon, I left my bed of mint and green turf, 
convinced that there was now no danger of meet- 
ing any one. I handed the gun back to the 
Miller, who seemed a little amazed — perhaps at 
seeing me with empty bag — perhaps at seeing 
me alive. I then established myself opposite the 
portal and made an effort to finish a general view 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


55 


of the ruin, feeling all the time that my water- 
color sketch would never be appreciated by the 
minister. 

I was deeply absorbed in my work, when I sud- 
denly heard that noise of horses’ hoofs which since 
my unfortunate adventure had rung in my ears. 
I turned quickly and beheld the enemy within 
two hundred feet. The number of the party 
had been increased by several recruits of both 
sexes and their number was now quite for- 
midable. Although prepared for this meeting, 
I was none the better pleased, and I inwardly 
fumed at the idle wanderings of these indolent 
creatures. 

On this occasion I never dreamed of retreating. 
I had lost all desire for flight. 

I heard stifled laughs and whispers, and under- 
stood them only too well, and will not disguise 
from you the fact that a grain of anger began to 
ferment within me. I continued my task with an 
air of intense absorption, putting my head a little 
on one side, with an admiring look at my sketch. 


56 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


Nevertheless, I gave the keenest attention to what 
was going on behind me. 

The intention of these people was not very 
clear. Instead of following the path by which I 
was established, and which was the shortest road 
to the ruins, they divided and scattered themselves 
on my right, passing me in silence. One of the 
party, however, left the principal group and stood 
still about ten steps from me. Although my head 
was bent over my drawing, I felt, by that strange 
intuition which we have all of us felt, that human 
eyes were fixed upon me. I looked up with an 
air of indifference, and then down again. This 
rapid movement had sufficed to enable me to 
recognize the lady with the blue plume, the 
original cause of all my disgrace. 

She sat carelessly on her horse, with her head 
a little thrown back and her eyes half closed, 
examining me from head to foot with admirable 
insolence. At first I considered it my duty to sub- 
mit quietly to this examination, out of deference 
to her sex, but I lost patience and determined 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


57 


to put an end to her impertinent curiosity. So, 
after a few moments, I raised my eyes and 
fixed them upon her with polite gravity, but 
with an air of determination. She colored and 
I bowed. 

She, in her turn, bowed slightly, touched her 
horse with her whip, and disappeared through the 
arch of the old church. 

I was thus master of the field, and hugely 
enjoyed the effect I seemed to have on this small 
personage. 

The ride in the forest was not of very long 
duration, for in twenty minutes I saw the whole 
brilliant party reappear. Again did I pretend to 
be totally absorbed in my work, but this time a 
cavalier left the others and came toward me. He 
was a tall fellow, wearing a blue coat that was 
buttoned in a military fashion close to his throat. 
He came toward me with such decision that I 
naturally felt convinced that he intended to walk 
over my easel and my paint box with the hope of 
winning a smile from the ladies. I watched him 


58 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


carefully and my relief was great when he 
stopped at my side and took off his hat. 

“ Sir,” he said in a full, rich voice, “ will you 
permit me to see your drawing ? ” 

I bowed courteously in acquiesence and pur- 
sued my work. After a moment of silent con- 
templation, the unknown uttered a few words of 
commendation which seemed to be torn from him 
as it were, then he addressed me directly. 

“Sir,” he said, “permit me to express my 
admiration for your talent; it is to you we 
shall owe the preservation of these ruins which 
are so great an ornament to our part of the 
country.” 

I at once relented from my reserve which I felt 
would be regarded as the sulkiness of a cloud, 
and answered that he was very kind to express 
himself thus, that my work was that of an ama- 
teur, and added, that I had the strongest pos- 
sible desire that this charming spot should go 
down to posterity, but that the most important 
part of my work would be left undone, as I could 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


59 


find no historical account of the place in the 
archives of the country town. 

“ Upon my word sir,” answered the stranger, 
“ you are giving me the greatest possible pleas- 
ure. I have in my own library the greater part 
of the Abbey archives. Come and consult them 
at your leisure, I shall be very grateful to you.” 

I thanked him with some little embarrassment, 
expressed my regret at not having known this 
sooner, but I said I had every reason to think 
that a letter from Paris was then on its way to 
recall me. I rose as I spoke, seeking to soften 
the discourtesy of my words, by the grace of my 
attitude. I wished also to gain a clearer idea of 
the person to whom I was speaking, who proved 
to be a handsome man of sixty, whose large blue 
eyes expressed the most benevolent kindness. 

“ Come now !” he said, “ let us be frank, you 
do not care to mingle with this band of scatter- 
brains whom I was unable to prevent yesterday 
from an act of folly which I sincerely hope you 
will overlook. Let me here mention, sir, that I 


60 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


am the Marquis de Malonet. But to return to 
yesterday, the honors of the day were certainly 
with you. They wished to see you and they did 
not succeed. You had the last word.” 

I laughed heartily at hearing this favorable 
interpretation put upon my unfortunate escapade. 

“ You laugh ! ” interrupted the Marquis. 
“ Bravo ! we shall soon understand each other. 
Now then, what is there to prevent you from 
passing several days with me — my wife begs 
me to ask you to do so — she understood at once 
all your yesterday’s annoyances. She is as good 
as an angel, that wife of mine ! She is no longer 
young and is always ill, but she is an angel all 
the same. You shall take entire possession of 
my library, you shall live as an hermit if that 
pleases you. I see it all, my young guests have 
really terrified you with their noise and gayety, 
for you are a man of serious tastes, I can see 
that! You will soon find out who suits you here, 
and to whom you will talk. My wife is clever, 
and I believe I have some little ability, but I like 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


61 


exercise ; it is necessary to my health. But you 
must not take me for a mere brute — by no 
means — you like whist, I presume, so do I. You 
like to live delicately I fancy, as suits a man of 
taste and intelligence ! So be it. I have an 
excellent cook and a good cellar, sometimes I 
have two cooks for fifteen minutes at a time, one 
comes in as the other goes out, and there is 
naturally a great contest between them.’ , 

He laughed at his own breathless fluency of 
speech, but continued : 

“ It is settled then, you will go home with me ? 
I shall carry you off — ” 

Happy is the man, Paul, who knows how to say 
“No.” He alone is master of his time, of his 
fortune, and his honor ! He must learn to say 
“ No ” to a beggar, to a woman, to an old gentle- 
man under pain of sacrificing his charity, his 
dignity and his independence. For the lack of a 
manly straightforward “No,” how many miseries, 
how many crimes have taken place ever since the 
days of Adam ! 


62 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


While I weighed the invitation I had just 
received, these reflections were passing through 
my mind. I realized their wisdom fully, and I said 
“ Yes,” a fatal yes, by which I forfeited my Para- 
dise, exchanging a retreat which was completely 
to my taste, peaceful, laborious, romantic and 
free, for the thraldom of a sojourn where the life 
of society would weary me with its insipid 
dissipation. 

I begged for a little time to make the neces- 
sary preparations for my removal and the Mar- 
quis left me, with a very warm shake of the 
hand, declaring that he had taken a great fancy 
to me and that he should see that his two cooks 
did their duty. 

“ I shall tell them,” he said, “ that an artist, a 
poet, is coming, this will excite their imagina- 
tions ! ” 

About five o’clock two servants from the cha- 
teau came for my slender baggage, and informed 
me that a carriage awaited me on the top of the 
hill. I bade farewell to my cell ; I thanked my 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


63 


hosts and embraced the children, dirty and un- 
kempt as they were. 

These people appeared to be heartily sorry for 
my departure, and I too felt extraordinarily sad ; 
I do not know what strange sentiment attached 
me to this valley, but I left it with as heavy a 
heart as if it had been my native land. 

I will write again to-morrow, Paul. 


64 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


CHAPTER IY. 


A FRENCH COOK. 


September 26th. 


HE Chateau de Malonet is a massive and 



-L rather ordinary construction, dating back 
about a century. Beautiful avenues, an exten- 
sive courtyard and magnificent trees give it an 
imposing appearance. The old Marquis came 
down the steps to receive me, drew my arm 
within his own, and after conducting me through 
a succession of corridors, introduced me to an 
enormous salon which was almost dark. I could 
see by the flickering flame on the hearth, about 
twenty individuals of both sexes, divided into 
little groups. Thanks to this dim twilight, I 
avoided the grand entree which I had pictured to 
myself as solemn and alarming. I had only time 
to pay my respects to my hostess, who greeted 
me in a feeble but sympathetic voice, when she 
took my arm to conduct me to the dining-room, 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


65 


having determined, as it struck me, to refuse no 
mark of consideration to a person who was so 
surprisingly agile and fleet of foot. 

When we were seated at table, I discovered 
that my feats of the day before had not been 
forgotten, and that I was the centre of attention ; 
J>ut I bravely bore the cross-fire of curious and 
ironical glances, shot from behind a mountain of 
flowers which filled the centre of the table. I 
was supported, it is true, by the ingenious kind- 
ness of my hostess. Madame de Malonet is one of 
those elderly ladies who are as rare as they are 
charming, who have been saved from despair 
when they reach their forties, by their strength 
of mind and purity of soul, and who have pre- 
served from their shipwrecked youth one solitary 
spar and sovereign charm — that of grace. 

Small and frail, with a face worn and pale 
from habitual suffering, she fully answered her 
husband’s description. Without a show of pre- 
tension, devoting the most exquisite care to her 
person, but a care that is void of coquetry; 
4 


66 THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 

forgetting her lost youth, and touchingly desi- 
rous not of pleasing but of being forgiven, so to 
speak, for having grown old, such is this Mar- 
quise whom I adore. She has travelled much, 
read much, and knows Paris thoroughly. I was 
soon embarked in a conversation such as two 
persons who meet for the first time often enjoy, 
when they wander from pole to pole, touching 
lightly on subject after subject, arguing many 
points with gayety and agreeing on others. 

Monsieur de Malonet took advantage of the 
removal of the gigantic basket of flowers to 
discover the state of my relation with his wife. 
He seemed highly satisfied with our evident good 
understanding, and addressing me, he said : 

“ My dear sir, I told you of my rival cooks, 
and the moment has come for me to prove to 
these virtuosos that you have the discernment of 
which I boasted to them. Alas ! one of these 
celebrities I am about to lose — the illustrious 
Leon Eostain. It was he, sir, who on arriving in 
Paris two years ago, uttered these words to me : 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


67 


‘ A man of taste, Monsieur le Marquis, can no 
longer live in Paris; he must go elsewhere, to 
find a cuisine that is romantic.’ In short, sir, 
Rostain is a man who has an opinion and classic 
tastes. Now then, you are to taste two dishes in 
succession, of which cream forms the base. In 
my opinion both these dishes are a success, but 
Rostain’ s appears to me to be far the superior. 
Now I am envious to know, if you by yourself 
can assign to each tree its fruit, and render unto 
CaBsar the things that are Caesar’s. Now we will 
see ! ” 

I glanced at the two dishes which the Marquis 
pointed out, and I did not hesitate to decide on 
the one, when I tasted it, which was crowned by 
a temple of love, with an image of the small god, 
in sugar. 

“ He burns ! ” cried the Marquis. “ Bravo ! 
Rostain will hear this and his heart will rejoice. 
Ah ! sir, why did I not make your acquaintance 
before ? I might then have kept Rostain, or 
rather to word it more correctly, Rostain might 


68 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


possibly have kept me, for my dear friends, good 
huntsmen as you all are, I cannot conceal from you 
that you are not in the good graces of my cook, 
and I am convinced that his departure, in spite 
of the various reasons he gives, is in reality to be 
attributed to the indifference with which you 
receive his best efforts. I fancied that I was 
giving him an agreeable piece of information, 
when I told him some weeks since that my com- 
ing guests would ensure him an appreciative 
circle. 

(CC Monsieur le Marquis will excuse me/ an- 
swered Eostain, with a melancholy smile, ‘if I 
do not share his illusions. In the first place a 
huntsman devours, he does not eat. He brings 
to the table a ruined stomach, iratrum ventrem, 
as Horace says, and swallows without choice and 
reflection, gulce parens , the most serious produc- 
tions of an artist. In the next place, the exercise 
of hunting developes an immoderate thirst, which 
is only too hastily quenched. Now Monsieur le 
Marquis is of course aware of the opinion of the 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


69 


ancients in regard to the excessive use of wine 
during meals — it ruins the ability to taste, exer- 
dant vina palatum ! Nevertheless, Monsieur the 
Marquis may be assured that I will do my best 
for his guests, with my usual conscientiousness, 
however painful the certainty may be of not 
being understood/ 

“As he finished these words, he wrapped his 
toga more closely about him, raised his eyes to 
Heaven and left my dressing-room.” 

“ I never would have believed,” I said to the 
Marquis, that you would have regarded any 
sacrifice as too great, if it enabled you to retain 
this man of intellect.” 

“ You judge me correctly, sir,” replied Mon- 
sieur de Malonet ; “ but you will see that it was 
quite impossible. A week ago, Monsieur Rostain 
asked an especial audience, and made known to 
me that he was under the painful necessity of 
quitting my service. ‘ Good heavens ! ’ I ex- 
claimed ; * why is this and where will you go ? * 

“ ‘ To Paris/ was his sententious reply. 


70 THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 

“‘But/ I said, ‘you shook the dust of that 
Babylon from off your feet, as I thought, forever. 
You spoke of the decay of their tastes, of the 
superiority of the romantic cuisine/ 

“ He sighed as he replied : 

“‘That is all very true, sir, but life in the 
provinces has bitterness for which I was not 
prepared/ 

, “ I then offered him the most fabulous wages, 
which he refused. 

“ ‘ Tell me/ I urged, ‘ what it is that has gone 
wrong ? Ah ! I see, you do not like the woman 
in the kitchen ; she troubles your meditations by 
her loud singing. I will dismiss her/ This con- 
cession was not enough. I continued : ‘ Then it 

must be Antoine who displeases you ? He shall 
go also. Or the coachman ? He shall follow/ 

“In short, sir, I offered up my whole house- 
hold as a sacrifice before him. To all these con- 
cessions the chef replied with a mournful shake 
of the head, and finally I lost all patience and 
exclaimed : 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


n 


“‘In the name of heaven, Rostain, explain 
yourself/ 

“ Whereupon Rostain replied : ‘ It is really 

impossible for me to live in a place where I can 
not have my game of billiards. Here I have 
no one to play with/ 

“ This was quite too much,” continued the 
Marquis with a pleasant laugh, “ for I really 
could not offer to play with him myself, and was 
compelled to resign myself to his departure. I 
wrote, therefore, at once to Paris, and a young 
fellow arrived with a magnificent moustache, 
who called himself Jacquemart — Monsieur Jac- 
quemart — I should say. The classic Rostain, with 
sublime renunciation, wished to assist this new 
chief in his preliminary labors, and this is why I 
am enabled to offer you to-day, this eclectic 
repast, whose hidden beauties and merits, I fear, 
sir, only you and I have been able to appreciate.” 

The Marquis rose as he finished this sentence, 
and we followed the men, who went out on the 
balcony to smoke. The evening was magnificent. 


72 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


The Marquis and I strolled down the avenue, 
whose fine gravel glittered in the moonlight that 
glanced in between the grand old trees. 

While he talked with apparent carelessness, he 
really passed me through a sort of examination 
on many points, as if to discover if I were worthy 
of the interest that he had so gratuitously ex- 
tended to me. We differed on many points, hut 
both of us being endowed by Nature with sincer- 
ity and kindliness, we found more pleasure in 
arguing, than in agreeing. This Epicurean was 
a close thinker; his broad and comprehensive 
mind had in solitude adopted many a strange 
theory. 

Let me give you an idea of how he embarrassed 
me by suddenly saying : 

“ What is your opinion sir, of the nobility as a 
class, and considered as an institution of our time 
and country?” 

He saw that I naturally hesitated. 

“ Speak frankly, I entreat you ; you see I am 
thoroughly frank myself — ” 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


73 


“I feel toward the nobility myself,” I answered, 
“as an artist should feel. I regard rank as a 
natural monument^- as a beautiful ruin, so to 
speak — which Hove and respect so long as there 
is no danger of its falling and crushing me.” 

“ Upon my life ! ” he exclaimed with a laugh ; 
“ that is a good thing to say. I deny that I am 
a ruin, historical or otherwise ! I should astonish 
you very much probably, if I were to tell you 
that according to my manner of thinking, France 
without her nobility could not exist.” 

“ You do indeed astonish me,” I answered. 

“ Yes,” he resumed, “ I believe this most thor- 
oughly — I can no more conceive of a nation with- 
out its aristocracy and privileged classes, than I 
can of an army without its staff of officers. The 
nobility are the intellectual and moral staff of a 
country.” 

“Do you think they are, with us ?” 

“ They have been, at all events ; we owe to them 
all the civilization to which we have attained; 
they have been the head, arms, and heart of the 


74 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


nation. They have sometimes misunderstood — • 
and I am ready to admit — never more cruelly 
than in the last century, the new role imposed on 
them by a new era. 

“ They seem in our day, not to disregard this so 
much as to forget it. If Heaven had given me 
a son — ah ! I touch the most painful chord in my 
heart — I should have made it my conscientious 
task to elevate him far above the tame idleness 
in which our phalanx live and die, regretting the 
past in a dull sort of way. 

“Without ceasing to be in the front ranks 
through courage — an antique virtue which is still 
useful in our land — I should have taken care that 
he was first, or one of the first at least, in the 
arts and sciences, and in every way in which the 
active human mind can assist itself in these days. 
The aristocracy of a country should watch the 
march of civilization with the greatest tenacity, 
not merely to follow it but to guide it, this I 
freely grant you. 

“ You may say too, that it has constant need of 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


75 


new recruits, and new blood, that it ought to 
appropriate each eminent merit and amazing vir- 
tue — this too I grant you : but do not say that a 
nation can exist without an aristocracy. What 
think you of American civilization, which is the 
only one distinct and apart from all immediate 
influence of a present or past aristocracy?” 

“ But it seems to me,” I said, avoiding a direct 
reply to his question, “ that in France we have the 
intellectual staff which you ask ; it is the natural 
legitimate aristocracy of work and merit. I hope 
this will never fail us, . and I believe that to class 
these persons would be to shackle and restrain 
them. What is the good of creating an institu- 
tion when its very nature is an eternal fact which 
renews itself in each generation ? ” 

“ Pshaw! ” answered the Marquis, warming up 
somewhat as he spoke. “ Can it be that you 
honestly believe that a national genius, a national 
civilization can be developed through these more 
or less brilliant individuals to which each genera- 
tion gives birth ? ” 


76 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


“ Look at America again ; the United States 
have, like all other countries, I presume, their pro- 
portion of men of talent and virtue : have they 
then what can be called a national genius ? And 
what is it? Describe it to me. They have a 
national capital to be sure, and that capital 
should be the centre of their aristocracy. No, 
sir ; no, the law of facts is incontestable, there is 
nothing great, nothing good, nothing strong, 
nothing lasting under Heaven, without authority, 
without unity and without tradition. 

These conditions of grandeur and duration, 
you will never find except in a permanent 
institution. 

“ A corps is needed which makes it a duty and 
an honor to concentrate within itself all the cul- 
ture and genius of the country ; to maintain, prac- 
tice and encourage all virtues, arts, and sciences, 
and the industries before which the w r hole earth 
now bows under the name of French civilization. 

Figure to yourself, then, an upper class regen- 
erated with such aspirations as I have attempted 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


77 


to delineate — each person comprehending his own 
task and aim in life, supporting his supremacy on 
a real and evident superiority — then would one 
society, one civilization, live and flourish. If 
that can not be done the upper class must die 
out. Paris will for a time preserve its supremacy. 
Now what have you to say to this ? ” 

“ Permit me to reply to you with another ques- 
tion. What do you do with yourself in this 
secluded spot where you reside ? ” 

“ I do very well with myself sir, I assure you, 
and follow out my principles too. I know that 
naturally I occupy as distinguished a position as 
any one about me. I have brought into my 
province, good sense, good taste, and good drain- 
age ; I condescend to be the mayor of this com- 
mune, I build schools for my peasants, asylums 
and a church, paying all the expenses myself, 
you understand.” 

“ And your peasants/' I said, “ what do they 
do?” 


“ What do they do ? They detest me, I think.” 


78 THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 

“ You see then,” I answered laughing, “ that 
modern notions do not altogether support your 
views. It seems that your very title is enough 
to close the eyes of these gentlemen to your vir- 
tues, and to all the benefits you have bestowed 
upon them.” 

“I honestly believe, young man,” cried the 
Marquis gayly, “ that you are weak enough to be 
carried away by modern notions yourself. At all 
events, come now and let us have a game of whist 
with these ladies.” 

As we neared the chateau we heard loud 
laughing and talking, and soon caught sight of a 
dozen young men, jumping wildly on the plat- 
form at the head of the steps. We at first could 
not understand these extraordinary gymnastics, 
but presently caught the gleam of a white 
dress. It was evidently a tournament, and a lady 
was to reward the victor. 

The young lady, — she must have been young 
or the men would never have been so active — 
was leaning over the balustrade, exposing to the 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


79 


heavy dew of the autumnal evening and to 
Diana's kisses, her graceful head crowned with 
flowers, and her snowy shoulders. She leaned 
over the railing as I said and held in her ex- 
tended hand something, but it was difficult to dis- 
cern what, at the distance at which I stood; I 
finally discovered that it was a cigarette daintily 
constructed by her white fingers. Although this 
spectacle was very charming, the Marquis seemed 
strangely annoyed, and in a tone of very evident 
impatience muttered : 

“ Yes, I knew it. It is the Little Countess, of 
course ! ” 

It is needless for me to say that I at once 
recognized in the little Countess my Amazon with 
blue plumes, who, with or without the plumes 
seemed to have very much the same tastes. 

She in her turn recognized me at once, as you 
will see. The Marquis and I hastened up the 
steps, leaving the rival pretendants to continue 
their contest. As we reached the top, the little 
Countess, intimidated possibly by the presence of 


80 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


the Marquis, and wishing to put an end to the 
scene, darted toward me and placed her cigarette 
in my hand, saying : 

“ This is for you ! I am sure you can jump, 
and run, too, better than any of these others.” 

With this pleasing remark, which had the 
double advantage of annoying both victor and 
vanquished, she disappeared. I have little now 
to tell you of the events of the evening. After 
the game of whist, I pleaded fatigue, and the 
Marquis was good enough to show me, himself, to 
a charming sleeping-room, adjoining the library. 
I was disturbed the first part of the night by the 
monotonous noise of the piano, and by the roll- 
ing of carriages — indications of civilization which 
caused me to regret with considerable bitterness 
the retreat that I had deserted. 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


81 


CHAPTER V. 

SOCIETY IN A CHATEAU. 

I was fortunate enough to find in this library 
the historical documents of which I had 
been so long in search. They proved the 
ancient charter of the abbey, and to the Malonet 
family were especially interesting. 

This was a certain Guillaume Malonet, a very 
rich man, who, in the middle of the twelfth 
century — with the consent of his sons, Hugues, 
Fonlques, Jean and Thomas — restored the church 
and founded the abbey in favor of the Benedict- 
ines, for the salvation of his sons and of the sons 
of his forefathers, conceding to the congregation, 
among other privileges, that of receiving the 
tenth of all revenues, the half of the wool from 
off the sheep ; three loads of wax to be delivered 
each year at Mont Saint Michel — et molendinum 
in eodern situ . 

5 


82 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


I quite enjoyed reading in the wretched Latin 
of that day, the description of this landscape, now 
so familiar to me. The charter was dated 1145. 
Legal documents prove however, that the Abbaie 
de Rosel was governed by a Patriarchy appointed 
from the order of Saint Benoit, which existed at 
that time in Normandy. Each year, a general 
convention of the order was held, presided over 
by the Abbe de Rosel. A dozen or more other 
monasteries were represented by their highest 
dignitaries. 

The discipline and labors, the temporal and 
spiritual welfare of the Benedictines of the 
Province were controlled and reformed with a 
severity to which the noble language of these 
documents bear ample witness. These assemblies 
took place in the hall which is so shamefully 
profaned in our day. 

My abbey was then, the first in this Province of 
an illustrious order, whose very name recalls the 
most self-sacrificing and austere toil. The mag- 
nificence of the church is thus fully explained. 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


83 


I have now within my grasp the materials for an 
interesting and ample work. 

I forget myself and my surroundings in the 
perusal of these papers, filled with characteristic 
facts, incidents, and customs, borrowed from the 
everyday life of the times, which transports me 
into the very heart of long-past ages, so utterly 
different from the times in which we live. 

Perhaps, too, when we appropriate thus by 
study, the ideas, emotions, and even the daily 
habits, of men who have preceded us on the 
earth, we feel that it is very sweet to throw 
ourselves back into the Past, and appropriate the 
sensations of centuries to crowd them into our 
brief lives. 

I find the library very wealthy, in addition to 
these archives; but the gayety of the chateau 
gives me but little time to devote myself to its 
enjoyment as I would desire. My excellent hosts 
take from me with one hand the liberty they 
give me with the other, for, like the rest of the 
world, they have very little idea of the constant 


84 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


and systematic occupation which goes by the 
name of work. An hour or two of reading 
appeared to them the utmost amount of labor a 
man can endure during the day. 

“ You are free ; pray feel entirely at home and 
retreat to your den/’ says the Marquis to me, 
every morning. An hour later, he is at my door. 

“ Are you at work ? ” he says. 

“ I am just beginning.” 

“ Just beginning ! Why you have been here 
two good hours. You will kill yourself, my 
friend. This will never do. Go to the salon, my 
wife is waiting for you. You will join her, will 
you not ?” 

“ Certainly I will.” 

“ But not unless you have finished ! ” 

And he goes off to sail or to hunt. As to my- 
self, haunted by the idea that some one is waiting 
for me, I can do nothing, so I soon go off and 
join Madame de Malone t, whom I find deep in 
conversation with her cur6 or her chef. I inter- 
rupt her ! she has disturbed me — but we smile at 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


85 


each other in the most amiable fashion, however. 
This is the way in which the days slip away. In 
the morning I ride with the Marquis alone, he 
knowing that I particularly dislike the crowd 
which usually attends him. 

In the evening, I play whist, and converse with 
the guests in the chateau, seeking to convince 
them that I am not the original for which they 
take me, as that reputation is not agreeable to 
me in myself or in others. Nor do I like a man 
who is so serious in character that he cannot 
enjoy society at times, and knows not how to 
employ his natural gifts. 

Having fulfilled my duties in this direction, I 
withdraw and work in the library until very late. 
This is a very charming time to me. 

The usual society of the chateau consists of 
the guests, who are always numerous at this sea- 
son, and of several persons in the neighborhood, 
all assembled to do honor to the only daughter 
of the Marquis who comes each year to spend 
the autumn with her father. She is singularly 


86 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


beautiful, classically beautiful, and amuses herself 
with the dignity of a queen, communicating, with 
ordinary mortals only by disdainful monosyllables 
uttered in a low deep voice. She married almost 
twelve years ago, an Englishman attached to the 
diplomatic corps — Lord A. — a fine looking man 
of appalling dignity and gravity. He addresses 
his wife occasionally with an English monosylla- 
ble, to which she imperturbably responds by a 
French one. 

Three young noblemen worthy of the pencil of 
Sir Thomas Lawrence, hover around this Olym- 
pian couple. A no less remarkable pair make 
their appearance each day from a neighboring 
chateau. The husband is a Monsieur de Breuilly, 
a soldier and an intimate friend of my host. He 
is handsome in spite of his years, and wears a 
very small hat on top of his bushy gray hair. 
He has a way of speaking which seems to me 
somewhat affected in its excessive slowness. He 
would be extremely amiable were he not con- 
stantly tormented by jealousy and by an equally 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


87 


strong fear of his weakness being detected, this 
fear being altogether useless, as his jealousy 
appears at every turn. It is very difficult for 
any one to understand how, with such a disposi- 
tion and much good sense, he committed the fault 
of marrying, at fifty-five, a young and pretty 
woman; a creole too, unless I greatly mistake. 

“Monsieur de Breuilly,’ , said the Marquis, 
when he presented me to this most punctilious 
gentleman, “is my very best friend, and will 
infallibly be yours, and will also as infallibly 
cut your throat, if you should pay court to his 
wife.” 

“ Good heavens, my dear fellow,” answered 
Monsieur de Breuilly, with a laugh that was not 
over gay. “ Why do you give this gentleman the 
idea that I am an Othello, I am sure — that is to 
say — your friend is perfectly at liberty — He 
knows — that is — But sir, here comes Madame 
de Breuilly, permit me to present you to her.” 

A little surprised at his words and manner, I 
was malicious enough to translate it literally. I 


88 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


seated myself at the side of Madame de Breuilly 
and began to pay her the most devoted attention. 
Meanwhile, Monsieur de Breuilly watched ns 
from afar off with the most rigid attention. I 
saw his eyes flash, he laughed, and gesticulated, 
while his fingers cracked in a most suggestive 
manner. 

The Marquis suddenly came to me, and pro- 
posed a game of whist. Drawing me aside, he 
said: 

u What on earth are you doing ? ” 

“ I — nothing — what do you mean ? ” 

“ Did I not warn you ? It is really very seri- 
ous. Just look at Breuilly, it is the dear man’s 
only weakness, and every one respects it here. 
Do the same, I beg of you.” 

This dear man’s only weakness resulted in his 
wife’s being condemned to a perpetual quaran- 
tine. The belligerent character of a man is often 
an attraction the more in the wife ; but one hesi- 
tates to risk one’s life without the chance of a 
possible compensation, and we have here a man 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


89 


who threatens ‘you with at least an uncom- 
fortable notoriety. This visibly discouraged the 
most enterprising, and it is rarely that Madame 
• de Breuilly has not on her left and her 
right two empty places in spite of her non- 
chalant grace, in spite of her magnificent cre- 
ole eyes, which seem to say with touching 
persistency : 

“ Good heavens ! will no one ever lead me into 
temptation ! ” 

One would naturally suppose that the isolation 
in which the poor woman lived would be to her 
husband an assurance of safety. Not in the least! 
his ingenuity sought and found a new cause of 
perplexity. 

“My friend,” he said to the Marquis yesterday, 
“ you know that I am not more jealous than other 
men, but without being Orosmane, I make no 
pretensions to being Georges Dandin. One 
thing, however, disturbs me, my friend: have 
you noticed that apparently no one pays my wife 
any attention ? 


90 THE LITTLE COUKTESS. 

“ Upon my word, if it be that which disturbs 
you — ” 

“ It does then, for you must admit yourself, that 
it is not natural. My wife is pretty, very pretty. 
Why should she not be as much courted as other 
women ? Answer me that. It looks as if there 
were something underneath ! ” 

Fortunately, and to the great advantage of 
society, all the young married women who visit 
at the chateau are not guarded by dragons in this 
way. Some of them, and particularly several 
Parisiennes exhibit a freedom of speech, a love 
of pleasure and an exaggeration of style and 
elegance, which overstep the limits of discretion. 

You know that I da not fancy this style, which 
in no way corresponds with my idea of a woman, 
nor of a woman of the world ; but I nevertheless 
am enlisted on the side of these gay creatures, 
in fact their conduct appears to me quite perfect 
when I hear certain pious matrons spend their 
evenings, picking them to pieces, and displaying 
the venom in their hearts after the manner of 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


91 


servants. It is not always necessary to leave 
Paris to witness the wretched spectacle of these 
provincials declaring against what they call vice, 
that is to say against youth, elegance, distinction 
and charm — against in short, all that these good 
women no longer have, and possibly never had. 

These chaste vixens inspire me at times with 
such infinite disgust for the virtue which they 
claim to sustain — 0, virtue, how many crimes 
are committed in thy name ! — that I lose my 
temper on the few occasions when I find myself 
compelled to admit that at least one of these 
victims gives a color of justice to their animad- 
versions and calumnies. 

An angel of charity and benevolence would vail 
her face before this incarnation of dissipation, 
turbulence, uselessness and extravagance, whose 
real name is the Countess de Palme, but who is 
always called the Little Countess — a singular 
misnomer, by the way — she being far from 
“ little” — simply slender, and delicate. Mad- 
ame de Palme is twenty-five, and a widow. She 


92 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


resides with a sister in Paris, in the winter, and 
spends her summers at a manor in Normandy, 
belonging to her aunt, Madame de Pontbrian. 

Allow me to describe this aunt, who is, to 
begin with, of the most distinguished birth, and 
is entitled moreover, to especial consideration for 
the strength of her hereditary convictions, and 
for her religious fervor and strict devotion. That 
these are two strong letters of recommendation, 
I freely admit. All firm principles and all sincere 
sentiments, should command in these days espe- 
cial respect. Unfortunately however, Madame de 
Pontbrian appears to me to be one of those 
devotees who have little of the Christian about 
them. She is one of those who adhere closely to 
the most minute observances, are ridiculously 
proud of doing so, and perform with the utmost 
fidelity, each duty of their religious or political 
faith, but do it in such a stern and forbidding 
way as to attract no proselytes whatever. 

The stern performance of these duties is all 
sufficient to their conscience, and they evince no 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


93 


trace of charity, of goodness, nor of humility. 
Her genealogy, her assiduity, and her annual 
pilgrimages to lay her homage at the feet of an 
illustrious exile — who would probably fade away, 
did he not see her face — inspire in this old lady 
such a lofty idea of herself and so profound a 
contempt for her neighbor, that she is extremely 
unsocial in her deportment. 

Her reserved face seems to indicate that she 
chooses to hold communion with no one save her 
Maker, who must certainly be a good God if He 
listens to her ! 

Under the nominal protection of this mystic 
duenna, the Little Countess enjoyed an absolute 
independence which she outrageously misuses. 
After spending the winter in Paris, where she 
regularly uses up one coachman and a pair of 
horses each month in her determination to waltz 
at a half dozen different balls every evening, 
Madame de Palme feels the necessity of enjoying 
the rest and peace of life in the country. She 
starts off to her aunt’s, and has hardly arrived 


94 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


there before she is on horseback and away. 
Little does she care where she goes, provided she 
goes. She often comes to the chateau, whose 
excellent mistress evinces toward her the strong- 
est predilection. 

Familiar with men, impertinent with women, 
the little Countess offers herself as a shining 
mark to the indiscreet homage of the one and 
jealous hatred of the other. Utterly indifferent 
to public opinion, she drinks in the coarsest 
incense of flattery; but that which pleases her 
more than anything in the world is noise, merri- 
ment, excitement of all kinds — social dissipation 
pushed to such an extremity that it is absolutely 
compromising. She asks that each morning there 
shall be a riding party or a mad hunt organized, 
and each evening, either a game of lansquenet 
where she breaks the bank, or a mad cotillion 
that she leads until daybreak. One moment of 
repose, of .thought and reflection — of which 
however, she is probably incapable — would 
kill her. Never was an existence so filled and 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


95 


so empty — never activity so incessant and so 
sterile. 

She passed through life thus hastily, without 
drawing bridle, so to speak — gracious, careless, 
busy; and as ignorant as the horse she rides. 
When she reaches the fatal postern, this woman 
will fall from the nothingness of her restless 
activity to the nothingness of eternal repose, 
without the faintest vestige of an idea that she 
has a serious duty, or the faintest suggestion of 
a thought worthy of a human being having 
troubled the shallow brain within her fair brow. 

It may be said that Death, let it come at what- 
ever age it may, will find the Little Countess 
precisely what she was in her cradle ; that is, if 
she has retained her innocence as faithfully as 
she has her childishness. 

Has this simpleton a soul ? It is really difficult 
for me to conceive that anything can survive of 
this body when it has lost the vain fever and the 
frivolous aspirations which now animate it. I 
know the world and its ways too well to take 


96 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


k la lettre, the accusations of immorality which 
are flung at Madame de Palme, mostly by those 
rivals who are good enough to be very envious 
of her. 

It is not from this point of view, you under- ' 
stand, that I treat her with rigor. Men, when 
they are especially pitiless toward certain faults 
— forget too often that they have passed a large 
portion of their own lives encouraging these 
errors on their own account. But this feminine 
type which I have just attempted to sketch, 

I find more shocking than immorality itself, 
although it is sometimes difficult to separate 
the two. Thus, notwithstanding my desire to 
avoid all singularity, I could not make up my 
mind to form the cortege of adorers, whom 
Madame Palme has chained to her car. I do 
not know precisely to what cause to attribute the 
scathing glances with which she favors me in 
passing; but it is probable that these hostile 
symptoms are due to the natural antipathy exist- 
ing between persons as dissimilar as ourselves. 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


97 


I look at her at times with the surprise I might 
feel in the presence of some tremendous psycho- 
logical phenomenon, and thus we are quits. I 
should rather say, we were quits, for we are so 
no longer since a little adventure which I met 
with last evening, and which enables me to 
consider myself, in my running account with 
Madame de Palme, so far in advance that she 
will have some difficulty in overtaking me. 

I told you, I think, that Madame de Malonet, 
in her Christian charity, shows the greatest fond- 
ness for the Little Countess. I was talking last 
evening with the Marquise, a little apart in the 
corner of the salon. I took the liberty of saying 
to her that this excessive fondness so openly 
shown by a woman like herself, was a bad 
example, and that I had never understood that 
passage in the Gospel, to the effect that there 
shall be more joy over one sinner that repenteth 
than over ninety and nine just persons which 
need no repentance. This seems to me ex- 
tremely discouraging to the just. 

6 


98 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


“In the first place,” answered Madame de 
Malonet, “the just are not easily discouraged; 
next, there are none. Do you think, for exam- 
ple, that you belong to that ninety and nine ? ” 

“ No indeed. Quite the contrary.” 

“ Then, whence comes your right to sit in 
judgment over your neighbor ? ” 

“ I do not call Madame de Palme my neighbor.” 
“ That is very convenient. Madame de Palme, 
sir, has been very badly brought up, badly mar- 
ried, and thoroughly spoiled; but, believe me 
when I say that she is a priceless diamond in the 
rough.” 

“ I see only the rough ” 

“ Which needs only a good workman — I mean 

a good husband, to cut and polish ” 

“ Permit me to compassionate this future lap- 
idary.” 

Madame de Malonet moved her foot restlessly 
on the carpet and evinced other signs of impa- 
tience, which at first I did not know how to 
interpret, for she is never out of temper, when 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


99 


all at once a brilliant idea entered my mind. I 
decided that I had at last discovered the weak 
side, and the only fault of this charming old 
lady. She was possessed by the mania of match- 
making, and in her Christian desire to snatch the 
Little Countess from the abyss of perdition, she 
meditated secretly on throwing my unworthy self 
down with her. 

Penetrated by this modest conviction, I held 
myself on the defensive, and as T look back now 
on the conversation, I am convinced of my own 
preposterous folly. 

“ But, good heavens ! ” cried Madame de Malo- 
net, “ because you think her uncultivated from 
your literary point of view ” 

“ I do not think her simply ‘ uncultivated.' I 
believe honestly, that she does not know her 
alphabet." 

“ But seriously, of what do you accuse her ? ” 
asked my old friend, in a voice that showed no 
small feeling. 

I wished to demolish at one blow the matri- 


100 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


monial dream cherished as I supposed by the 
Marquise. 

“ I accuse her/' I answered, “of giving, to the 
world a spectacle, which is intensely irritating to 
a heathen like myself, of triumphant vice, and of 
applauded folly. I make no great claims, it is 
true, to anything, and have no right to judge, but 
I have like the rest of the world, a certain amount 
of common sense and morality which rebels 
against the triumph of these persons whom I 
believe to be without sense or virtue.” 

The old lady’s breath came quicker and 
quicker. 

“Do you think,” she asked, “that I would 
receive her did I believe her to deserve the 
stones thrown at her by calumny ? ” 

“I think it is impossible for you to believe 
in evil.” 

“Nonsense — let me tell you that you show 
very little penetration. All these adventures, 
these love episodes attributed to her, are totally 
without foundation. She is a real child at 


THE .LITTLE COUNTESS. 101 

heart, and literally does not know how to 
love ! ” 

“ That I can well believe, Madame. Her com- 
monplace coquetry proves that ; I am even quite 
ready to swear that she is never carried away by 
imagination or by passion, and therefore that her 
errors have less excuse.” 

“ Good heavens ! ” cried Madame de Malonet, 
with clasped hands, u pray say no more ! I know 
her far better than you can — she is an innocent 
child, who has been cu£* adrift from all good 
influences. I assure you that under her air of 
levity, which I admit is most objectionable, she 
has as much heart as mind.” 

“ Again I agree with you, Madame. She has 
precisely as much of one as the other.” 

“ Ah ! This is too much,” and the hands of the 
Marquise fell helplessly at her side. 

At the same moment I saw the curtain which 
half covered the door, near which we were sit- 
ting, violently agitated, and the Little Countess 
leaving the concealment which she had adopted 


102 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


for some reason quite unknown to me, appeared 
before our eyes for one brief second, as she 
flashed across the open door and joined the group 
about a card table in the next room. 

I looked at my hostess. 

“ Did you know she was there ?” I asked. 

“ Perfectly. She heard us, and saw us. I did 
my best to stop you, but you went off at full 
gallop ! ” 

I was considerably confused, and as I thought 
over my words I regretted their severity, for in 
attacking this lady I yielded more to the excite- 
ment of a controversy than to a spirit of serious 
animadversion. 

“ And now what ought we to do?” I asked of 
Madame de Malonet. 

She hesitated a moment, and then shrugging 
her shoulders lightly, replied : 

“ Nothing at all: perhaps it is better as it is ! ” 

The least wind causes a full cup to overflow ; 
and thus it came to pass that the petty discom- 
fort and annoyance of this scene seems to have 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


103 


exasperated the feeling of ennui which has never 
left me since I came to this place. 

All this rush of gayety, this excitement, these 
rides and drives, dances and dinners, this endless, 
meaningless joy, and these fetes, actually disgust 
me. I regret bitterly the time I have lost, and 
the small progress I have made in my official 
mission ; I regret the engagements with which 
the amiable kindness of my hosts have hampered 
my movements ; I regret my charming valley, 
and the peaceful Monastery, and above all, friend 
Paul, do I regret you. 

There are certainly in this small social centre, 
enough cleverness and mental distinction to form 
the elements of the most agreeable and even the 
most elevating relations, but these elements are 
confounded and drowned in all this foolish uproar 
from which it is impossible to escape. 

Monsieur and Madame de Malonet and even 
de Breuilly himself, when his insensate jealousy 
does not deprive him of the use of his facul- 
ties, are certainly persons of cleverness and 


104 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


cultivation; but tbe mere difference of years 
opens a chasm between us. As to young men, 
and men of my own age whom I meet here, they 
are one and all following with steps more or less 
quick, in the path of Madame de Palme. 

It is quite enough that I do not do the same 
thing for them to adopt toward me a marked 
coolness, amounting almost to antipathy of man- 
ner. My pride is too great to allow me to make 
any attempt to break this ice, although several 
among them strike me as being clever and agree- 
able, and indicate tastes and aspirations far 
beyond the lives they have adopted. 

There is one question which I occasionally ask 
myself : in what respect after all are we two — 
you, Paul, and myself, any better than these peo- 
ple ? Like us they have honesty and honor, like 
us they have neither virtue or religion. We are 
equals in that respect. 

It is simply that our tastes and our pleasures 
bear no resemblance to each other : all their 
thoughts are given to light worldly affairs, to 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


105 


gallantry, and to material activity ; ours are 
accorded with equal energy to the exercise of 
thoughts, and to the developement of our minds. 
From a human point of view, and according to 
the opinion of this world, it is evident that the 
difference is in our favor; but, in a more ele- 
vated sphere, and before God, so to speak, would 
this superiority continue? Do we, as well as 
they, yield to a pure taste, or do we fulfil a 
great duty? 

What is the great merit in God’s eyes, of a life 
that is purely intellectual ? It seems to me 
sometimes, that we profess for thought a certain 
Pagan worship which He would not accept, and 
which might even be offensive to Him. Some- 
times again I am inclined to believe that He 
wishes us to use our intellects, and that He 
accepts as homage all the vibrations of the 
noble instrument of joy and torture with which 
He has endowed us. 

Is not sadness itself in seasons of doubt and 
trouble a species of piety ? I love to think so 


106 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


We resemble a little — you and I — those 
dreaming Sphinxes who have vainly questioned 
for so many centuries the sands and winds of the 
desert. Is not our folly quite as great, and 
infinitely more culpable than the happy indiffer- 
ence of the little Countess ? 

In the meantime, however, keep, out of love 
of me, that gentle melancholy, with which you 
interweave your tender gayety; for, thanks be 
to heaven, you are no pedant: you know how 
to live and to laugh, but in your innermost soul 
your heart is as sad as a tombstone, and that is 
why I love you as a brother ! 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


107 


CHAPTER YI. 

REMONSTRANCES. 

October 1st. 

F RIEND PAUL : I need your advice. Let me 
have it with all possible haste. 

Thursday morning, having finished my letter to 
you, I went down stairs to place it in the mail- 
bag, which is dispatched at a very early hour. 
Then, as there were a few minutes before dinner. 
I entered the salon, which was vacant. 

I sat turning over a Revue in the corner by the 
fire, when the door suddenly opened. I heard 
the rustling of a silk robe, which was too volumi- 
nous to pass through the wide door easily, and I 
saw the Little Countess appear. She had spent 
the night at the chateau. 

If you will take the trouble to recall the unfor- 
tunate dialogue which took place last evening, 
you will easily divine that this lady was the last 


108 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


person in the world with whom it would be 
agreeable to find myself en tete-a-tete this morning. 

I rose and bowed profoundly. She replied by 
an inclination, which, though slight, was far more 
than I merited. Her first entrance into the 
room — the first steps she took after catching 
sight of me — were timid and hesitating. Invol- 
untarily I thought of a^-bird slightly wounded in 
the wing and, perhaps, a little stunned. Would 
she go to the piano, the window or the fire ? 

It was evident that she did not know herself ; 
but as indecision is not the fault of her character, 
she soon made up her mind, and, crossing the 
immense room with a swift, gliding step, she came 
to the chimney — that is to say, to my especial 
domains. 

Standing by my arm-chair, and with my Revue 
in my hand, I waited, with apparent gravity 
and solemnity, but in reality in a perfect agony 
of mind. I anticipated an explanation and a 
scene. In all circumstances of this kind, our 
natural sentiments and the refinement imparted 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


109 


by education and intercourse with the world — 
the absolute liberty of attack and the extremely 
limited nature of the defense allowed us — gives to 
women a most crushing superiority over all men 
who are not ill-bred, and who are not their lovers ! 

In the especial danger which threatened — the 
keen conviction of my own guilt — the recollec- 
tion of the almost insulting form of my remarks — 
absolutely tied my tongue and took from me 
every thought of resistance. I felt myself bound 
with thongs, both feet and hands, and given over 
to the vengeance — appalling vengeance — of a 
young, imperious and resolute beauty. My posi- 
tion was a melancholy one. Madame de Palme 
stood still, about two feet from me, laid her right 
hand upon the marble of the chimney, and lifted 
her bronze slipper to the flames. Having arranged 
herself thus to her mind, and without opening 
her lips, she seemed to enjoy my disconcerted 
aspect. I determined to resume my seat and my 
book, but, in the first place, I thought it my duty 
to say, politely : 


110 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


“ Will you have this Revue, madame ? ” 

“ Thanks, sir ; I do not know how to read. ” 
Such was the reply, uttered in a decided voice. 
With both head and hand I made a deprecating 
gesture, by which I seemed to gently compas- 
sionate an infirmity thus revealed to me, after 
which I took my seat — much more comfortably, 
as I had received the fire of my adversary, and 
thus satisfied my honor. Nevertheless, at the end 
of a minute or two, I began to feel the embar- 
rassment of my situation. In vain did I try to be 
interested in my reading — I saw a crowd of little 
bronze slippers dancing over my paper. 

An open scene would have been infinitely pre- 
ferable to this sort of thing — to this persistent 
hostility, which Madame de Palme plainly demon- 
strated by the restless tapping of her foot and by 
the rattle of her rings on the marble, as well as 
by her extended nostrils. I consequently uttered 
a sigh of relief when the door suddenly opened 
and a new personage appeared on the stage, and 
one, too, whom I felt I could regard as an ally. 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


Ill 


This was a lady, the intimate friend from child- 
hood of Lady A , who was named Madame 

Durmaitre, a widow and wonderfully beautiful. 
She is also distinguished among that crowd of 
scatter-brains by her superior dignity and sense. 
For that reason as well as for her beauty, she is 
greatly disdained by the Little Countess, who 
speaks of her as the Widow of Malabar; alluding 
thus to the sombre toilettes of her rival, and to the 
languishing character of her beauty as well as to 
the somewhat romantic style of her conversation. 

Madame Durmaitre has no wit, but she has 
intelligence and some cultivation, priding herself 
particularly on her abilities as a conversationist. 

Seeing me without the smallest talent for 
society, she threw herself into the breach and 
undertook to reassure me. Thus has there grown 
up between us certain habits of friendly inter- 
course ; for, if I have not been able to reply to 
all her hopes, I have listened with religious 
attention to the melancholy pathos with which 
she tells her little tale. 


112 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


I look as if I understood her, and she likes 
that. The truth is that I never weary of her 
voice, which is exquisite music ; of looking at 
her features, which are of classic regularity, and 
of admiring her magnificent eyes, vailed by long, 
heavy lashes. 

You need not be in the least concerned, my 
day for being loved is past and gone. Conse- 
quently I do not propose to love, and I assure 
you that love is a malady quite under control 
w r hen one takes hold with vigor and sincerity of 
the first convulsions. 

Madame de Palme turned at the sound of the 
door. As soon as she saw Madame Durmaitre a 
ferocious light shone in her blue eyes ; accident 
had sent her a victim. She allowed the beautiful 
widow to float toward us with peculiar slowness 
of movement which characterises her, and then 
with angry laugh called out : 

“ Brava, Bravissima ! How well you would 
do the victim dragged to the altar ! Iphigenia, or 
rather Hermione.” 


113 




THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 

“ ‘ Pleurante aprfcs son char 
Yons voules qu ’on me voie! ’ 

“Who wrote those lines? Upon my word I 
do not know, I am so ignorant ! Ah ! it was 
your friend, Monsieur de Lamartine. He must 
have been thinking of you, cherie ! ” 

“ Is it possible that you have begun to quote 
verses ? ” asked Madame Durmaitre, who has not 
the gift of repartee. 

“ And why not, pray ? Have you, dear Mad- 
ame, the entire monopoly ? — ‘ Pleurante apres 
son char.' I heard Rachel say that ! I am mis- 
taken ! it was not'Lamartine who wrote it, it was 
Boileau. I assure you, dear Nathalie, that I 
have serious intentions of askipg you to give me 
a little instruction in the art of serious and 
virtuous conversation. It is so amusing, and 
now as a commencement, will you permit me to 
ask which you prefer, Lamartine or Boileau ? ” 

“ But my dear Countess, there is no comparison 
possible between them,” answered her rival, with 
considerable good sense and in all sincerity. 

7 


114 


\ 

THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 

“ Ah ! ” answered Madame de Palme, lightly 
waving her hand toward me as she said : “ Yon 
prefer that gentleman then, do you ? for he 
makes verses too ” 

“No, Madame,” I said hastily, interrupting 
her ; “ that is a very great mistake. I have no 
talent in that direction.” 

“ Ten thousand pardons ! I am mistaken then.” 

Madame Durmaitre, whose unalterable serenity 
is due doubtless to her consciousness of sovereign 
beauty, smiled with disdainful nonchalance, and 
sank into the chair which I had abandoned. 

“ What dreary weather,” she said. “ These 
autumnal days weigh on the soul. I looked for 
an hour or more from my window ; all the trees 
seem to be cypresses, and all the landscape a 
cemetery. One would say that ” 

“No, no, stop there ! ” cried Madame de Palme. 
“ You will certainly make yourself ill if you 
allow such latitude to your imagination before 
you have breakfasted.” 

“Upon my word, my dear Bathilde,” answered 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


115 


the widow, “ I am forced to believe that you 
have had a bad night.” 

“ I, my dear friend ? Never were you more 
mistaken ! I had the most charming dreams. 
They were ecstatic, absolutely ecstatic. My 
spirits conversed with other spirits — like yours, 
for example — - angels smiled at me through 
cypress trees, and all that sort of thing.” 

Madame Durmaitre colored, shrugged her 
shoulders, and took up the Revue which I had 
laid on the table. 

“ By the way, Nathalie,” resumed her oppo- 
nent, “do you know whom we are to have at 
dinner to-day, in the way of men ? ” 

The excellent Nathalie named Monsieur de 
Breuilly, two or three other married men, and 
the Cur6 of the parish. 

“ Ah ! indeed ! In that case, I shall take 
myself off as soon as breakfast,” said the little 
Countess, with a glance at me. 

“ That is very kind to the rest of us,” mur- 
mured Madame Durmaitre. 


116 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


“ You know,” answered the other with the 
utmost aplomb, “ that I only care for the society 
of men. There are three classes of individuals 
whom I consider as not belonging to the mascu- 
line sex, nor yet to the feminine ; and these are 
married men, priests, and savants.” 

As she ended this sentence, the little Countess 
gave me another glance, which I did not need to 
make me understand that she included me in her 
neuter gender. She of course could only place 
me in the third class, for the title of savant is 
easily won among women. A bell rang in the 
courtyard and she exclaimed : 

“ Thank heaven ! for I am fiendishly hungry. 
I make the confession with all due respect for the 
cleverness of one of you, and the sentimentality 
of the other.” 

She slid over the smooth wooden floor until 
she reached the other end of the salon, just in 
time to say good- morning to the Marquis de 
Malonet, who came in and was quickly followed 
by his guests. For me, I hastened to offer my 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 117 

arm to Madame Durmaitre, and tried to make 
her forget, by my politeness, the storm that had 
descended on her devoted head, by reason of the 
sympathy she had shown me. 

As you have noticed, the Little Countess had 
made use, in the course of this little scene, of a 
freedom of language which was certainly in very 
bad taste if nothing more; but she had also 
shown more cleverness than I believed to be hers, 
and although her wit was directed against me, 
I could not but admire it. To tell the truth, I 
have generally believed that stupid people do 
more harm than the really malicious. Besides, 
to be altogether just, the reprisals of which I 
was the object — setting aside the fact that the 
shock fell half the time on an innocent head — 
seemed to me quite honest warfare. They did 
not come from absolute ill -nature, and had a 
certain espieglerie, rather than an air of serious 
dislike. The little Countess had every reason to 
complain of me, and many women on less pro- 
vocation than hers, would have hated me till the 
day of their death. 


118 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


I smiled more than once, secretly, during our 
skirmish, and the impression left upon me was 
rather flattering to my enemy. Instead of the 
dislike and contempt I had previously felt, I now 
experienced a sensation of pity for the badly 
brought up child and the unfortunately managed 
girl. 

Women are quick to see all shades of manner, 
and I am certain that Madame de Palme fully 
understood my feelings. She was vaguely con- 
scious of my change of opinion in regard to her, 
and was quick to take advantage of it. For two 
days she has darted little arrows at me, which 
fusillade I bore good naturedly and in fact 
returned with some small attentions, for I was 
still disturbed by the recollection of my conver- 
sation with Madame de Malonet, and I did not 
consider them sufficiently expiated by the feeble 
martyrdom to which I, with the beautiful Widow 
of Malabar, had been subjected. 

A little more and Madame Bathilde de Palme 
would have imagined that she could treat me as a 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


119 


conquered land, and add Ulysses to her suite. 
Only yesterday she tried to test her power over 
my heart and my will by asking several little 
services of me — services which every man at the 
chateau is only too glad to render. I did what 
she required with perfect politeness, but also with 
excessive coldness. 

These small acts of serfdom have their charm, 
particularly when they are voluntary; but all 
ages and all characters do not bend with the 
same good grace. Men of the world perform 
without a thought and with the greatest possible 
elegance, trifling acts, which graver persons exe- 
cute with the consciousness that they are making 
themselves ridiculous. 

Meanwhile, notwithstanding the extreme re- 
serve with which I submit each day to these 
varied tests, the Countess de Palme believes in 
her entire success. She rashly leaps at the con- 
clusion that she has only to rivet my chain and 
add me to her list of triumphs — a poor prize, 
to be sure, but one which in her eyes has the 
very great merit of being contested. 


120 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


In the evening, when I left the whist table, 
she deliberately came to me and asked if I 
would dance the cotillion with her. I excused 
myself on the score of inexperience. She in- 
sisted, declaring that I must be fond of dancing, 
and reminding me of my surprising fleetness of 
foot as shown in the forest. Finally, to termi- 
nate this debate, she laid her hand on my arm, 
and drawing me away, said that she was not in 
the habit of being refused. 

“ Nor have I, Madame, the habit of making a 
spectacle of myself ! ” 

“ Would you not do so to please me ?” 

“ Not even for that, Madame — not even if it 
were my only hope of success in that endeavor.” 

I bowed and smiled as I said these words, 
which I emphasised so positively that she could 
not persist. She dropped my arm without an- 
other word and joined a group who were watch- 
ing her with evident interest. She was welcomed 
with whispers and suppressed laughter, to which 
she replied by a few rapid sentences of which I 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


121 


could only distinguish one word, “ revenge.” I 
paid no further attention to her that evening, 
but sought Madame Durmaitre and with her held 
sweet communion. 

The next day, a great hunting party was to 
have taken place in the forest. I had so ar- 
ranged matters as to escape the infliction, and 
intended to profit by an entire day of solitude to 
get on with my unfortunate work. 

About noon, the party assembled in the court- 
yard of the chateau, and for a half hour I heard 
the incessant braying of trumpets, neighing of 
horses and barking of hounds. Then the tumult 
extended into the avenue. The noise by degrees 
faded away, and I was master once more of 
myself in a silence all the more sweet because of 
its rarity. 

I enjoyed my solitude for a few minutes in 
idleness and then I turned to my work, when all 
at once I heard a horse galloping up the avenue 
and the clatter of hoofs on the paved courtyard. 

“ Some tardy huntsman,” I said to myself, and 


122 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


taking up my pen I began to make an extract 
from an enormous volume upon the Benedictines ; 
but a new and grave interruption came. I heard 
a knock on the library door. I lifted my head 
impatiently and in a gruff voice said, “ Come in ! ” 
My tone was much like that in which I might 
have said, “ Go out ! ” 

Some one came in. I had seen only a few 
moments before, Madame de Palme take flight 
with all her plumes, at the head of the cavalcade, 
and I was considerably surprised to see her now 
as the door opened. 

Her head was bare and her hair knotted up in 
a singular sort of way. She had her whip in one 
hand and with the other lifted her long riding 
skirt. The animation of her rapid ride seemed 
to exasperate her habitual expression of audacity, 
and yet her voice was less steady than usual, as 
she said : 

“ I beg ten thousand pardons, but is Madame 
de Malonet here?” 

I rose in all my dignity. 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


123 


“No Madame, I have not seen her.” 

“ Ah ! But can you tell me where she is ? ” 

“ No Madame, but I will find out if you wish.” 
“ Thanks ; I will find her myself. But an 
accident happened to me — ” 

“ Is that really so ? ” 

“ Oh it was not of much consequence, a hang- 
ing bough caught my hat and my feathers fell 
out.” 

“ Your blue feathers, Madame ? ” 

“Yes, precisely — my blue feathers — and I 
returned to have them sewn in. You are com- 
fortably at work I see ? ” 

“ Yes, most comfortably.” 

“ Are you very busy just now ? ” 

“ Yes Madame, in all frankness, I am.” 

“ More is the pity ! ” 

“ And why, Madame ? ” 

“ Because — I had an idea — I was thinking I 
should like to ask you to go to the forest with 
me. The party will have got there by the time I 
am ready to start, and I really do not care to go 
so far, alone.” 


124 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


And with this stammering explanation the 
little Countess looked so much disturbed that the 
distrust with which I had viewed her entrance 
increased fourfold. 

“Madame,” I said quietly, “you throw me 
into despair. I shall regret all my life that I am 
compelled to lose this charming pleasure you 
offer me, but the courier must take my work 
to-morrow, as the Minister expects it even now 
with extreme impatience.” 

“You are afraid of losing your position?” 

“ No, Madame — but — ” 

“Well then let the Minister wait, that will be 
very delicious flattery for me.” 

“That is quite impossible, Madame.” 

She answered me in a very quick tone. 

“ Impossible ? That is a very singular word ! 
You do not care then to do me a favor ” 

“Madame,” I replied with none too much 
urbanity, “ I would do a great deal to serve you, 
but nothing to enable you to win a wager.” 

As I had really nothing to base it upon, I 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


125 


threw out this insinuation a little at hap-hazard ; 
it was an instinct and a conviction, leaped, at 
rather than reached by any process of reasoning. 
But I was right. Madame de Palme colored to the 
roots of her hair, stammered two or three words 
so indistinctly that I could not guess their 
purport, and hurried from the room utterly 
disconcerted. 

This precipitate retreat left me also in some 
confusion. I am not ready to admit that we should 
push our respect for the weaker sex to that point 
of yielding foolishly to all the caprices, and to all 
the mad adventures a woman undertakes, and 
which may seriously affect our dignity and our 
repose ; but our right of defence in such rencon- 
tres is limited within such narrow boundaries 
that I feared I had overstepped them. It sufficed 
that Madame Palme was alone in the world and 
without other protection than her sex for me to 
feel absolutely humiliated at having yielded 
to my momentary irritation aroused by her 
impertinent attempt, at carrying me off captive. 


126 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


As I was trying to establish between onr recip- 
rocal wrongs, a balance which should calm my 
scruples, I heard another knock at the door of 
the library. 

This time it was my hostess who appeared. 
She was breathless, and apparently agitated. 

“What on earth has happened?” she cried 
as she came in. 

I at once related my conversation with the 
Countess in detail, and while I expressed pro- 
found regret at my quick temper, I added that 
the conduct of this lady was really most extra- 
ordinary; that twice in twenty-four hours she 
has selected me as the object of her wagers, and 
that this was altogether too much attention on 
her part toward a man who asked only that she 
would concern herself as little about him as he 
did about her. 

“ Good Heavens ! ” answered the kind old lady. 
“ I have no intention of finding fault with you — 
I have watched her conduct and yours for the last 
few days — but all this is very disgraceful. The 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 127 

child came to me, and threw herself all in tears 
into my arms. She declares that you have 
treated her with the utmost contempt.” 

I exclaimed indignantly at this. 

“ Madame,” I cried, “ I have repeated to you 
my precise words.” 

“ But it was not your words, it was your air, 
and your tone. My dear sir, will you allow me 
to speak frankly to you ? Have you any fears of 
falling in love with Madame de Palme ? ” 

“ Not the least in the world.” 

“ Do you wish her to fall in love with you ? ” 

“ By no means ! ” 

“Well then, do me a favor. Lay your pride 
aside for to-day and go to the forest with the 
Countess.” 

“Madame ! ” 

“I dare say this request strikes you as very 
extraordinary, but you may readily believe that 
I do not make it without a good reason. The 
distance at which you hold yourself from this 
child is precisely what attracts her, for she is as 


128 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


I have before told you, thoroughly spoiled, and 
now exasperated by a resistance to which she has 
never been accustomed. Have the humility to 
yield on this occasion. Do this for me.” 

“ Seriously, dear Madame — do you think — ” 

“I think/’ answered the old lady laughing, 
“ that you will lose your principal merit in her 
eyes, as soon as she sees you submit to her yoke, 
like the rest of the world.” 

“ Upon my word Madame, you present things 
to me in a very novel light. It never entered 
my head to attribute Madame de Palme’s conduct 
to a sentiment which would flatter me so highly.” 

“Nor must you do so now,” interrupted my 
hostess quickly, “for there is nothing of the 
kind at present, thank Heaven ; but it behooves 
you, as a man of gallantry to avoid all such risk.” 

“I yield to you, Madame,” I answered, “I 
will go for my gloves and hat, and you will per- 
haps, in the meantime, ascertain if the lady will 
accept my tardy offer.” 

“She will accept it, if you place yourself 
graciously at her disposal.” 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


129 


With this assurance Madame de Malonet 
extended her hand, which I kissed with profound 
respect and very little gratitude. 

When I entered the salon, all booted and 
spurred, Madame de Palme was alone, seated in 
the depths of an arm chair and swathed in her 
long skirt, she was fastening the blue plumes 
into her hat. She lifted and then quickly drop- 
ped her eyes, which were certainly very red. 

“ Madame,” I said, “ I am so sincerely afflicted 
at having offended you, that I venture to ask 
your pardon for my rudeness. I put myself at 
your disposal, if you refuse my company you 
will not only inflict upon me* a well deserved 
mortification, but you will make me excessively 
unhappy.” 

Madame de Palme took more notice of the 
tones of my voice than of the diplomacy of my 
words; she looked at me intently for a moment — 
her lips parted — but she said nothing. Finally 
she extended a trembling hand which I hastened 
to take in mine. This served her as a slight sup- 
8 


130 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


port as she bounded lightly from her chair, and 
in two minutes more, we were on our horses and 
trotting rapidly down the avenue, whose termina- 
tion we reached without having exchanged a 
word. I felt most keenly that this silence, so far 
as I was concerned, was awkward and ridiculous, 
but as often happens in circumstances which 
would seem to demand the most absolute elo- 
quence, I was struck positively dumb. In vain 
did I cudgel my brains, and the harder I 
belabored them, the more impossible did my 
effort become. 

I was besides, considerably disturbed by the 
new order of ideas inaugurated by Madame de 
Malonet. I asked myself what foundation her 
notions could have. I remembered the haughti- 
ness and capricious airs of this woman who w^as 
at my side, and I saw her now agitated, and with 
a strangely submissive manner which both trou- 
bled and touched me. The abyss which separated 
me from such a person still existed • but if I may 
so express myself, I still felt the distance between 
us, but the sense of estrangement was gone. 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


131 


Madame de Palme, who could not understand 
my secret meditations, and who perhaps would 
not have especially enjoyed them, finally became 
quite impatient at a silence which was certainly 
embarrassing. 

“ Suppose we have a gallop,” she said suddenly, 
and we touched our whips to our animals ; our 
rapid pace was to me an intense relief. We were 
compelled, however, to slacken our pace on reach- 
ing the winding road which led to the valley of 
Recins. The care of guiding our horses down 
the difficult descent allowed me to remain silent a 
little longer ; but, when we reached the valley, I 
saw that I must say something, and it mattered 
little what. As I opened my mouth, the lady 
spoke. 

“I have been told sir,” she said, “that you 
are really very clever ! ” 

“Madame,” I answered laughing, “you must 
judge of that yourself.” 

“ It would be rather difficult for me to do that, 
for in your opinion, I have no sense. Do not 


132 THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 

shake your head. Have you forgotten the con- 
versation I overheard the other evening?” 

“ Madame, I have committed so many mistakes 
in regard to you, that you must take compassion 
upon the confusion into which I am thrown by 
your words.” 

“ And what mistakes have you made ? ” 

“Many — in fact, I am altogether mistaken 
about you, I fancy.” 

“ But you are not certain ? You will admit, 
however, that I am a very amiable woman.” 

“ Certainly I will.” 

“ Yes ? You say that in a tone of absolute 
conviction. You are amiable, too, I fancy, and 
yet you have been very cruel toward me.” 

“ That is certainly true.” 

“What sort of a man are you then?” asked 
the Little Countess, in her quick imperative tone. 
“I do not understand many things. Why do 
you despise me ? In what especial virtue am I 
deficient ? Suppose that I am really guilty of all 
the follies and errors of which I am accused, 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 133 

what are they to you? Are you a saint or a 
reformer ? Have you never done anything you 
are ashamed of — never had any guilty liaison? 
Are you more virtuous than other men of your 
years and station ? What right have you to 
despise me ? Explain this if you can.” 

“ Madame, if the sentiments with which you 
reproach me were really mine, I would reply that 
no one of your sex or of my own ever takes his 
own morality as the standard of his opinions and 
judgment of others; one lives as one can, and 
judges as one must ! It is a very common and 
inconsequent thing, as you will admit among men 
— to condemn the very weaknesses which they 
themselves encourage, and by which they profit. 

“ But so far as I am concerned, I guard myself 
rigorously against a censoriousness which would 
be as ridiculous in a man as it is wrong in a 
Christian, and as to this conversation, which a 
most unfortunate accident brought to your ears, 
and in which my words expressed more than I 
thought — it is an offence which nothing I can 


134 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


say will ever induce you to forget or pardon. 
But I will be frank with you. Each of us has his 
own tastes and his own fashion of understanding 
the life of this world. We two — you and I — 
differ so entirely in this respect, that I conceived 
for you, as you for me, when we first met, a 
very positive antipathy. 

“ This disposition, which on my side at least 
Madame, has been singularly modified, has drawn 
me more than once into most unbecoming words 
and controversies. You have suffered, Madame, 
from the violence of my words ; but believe me, 
you have not suffered half as much as myself, 
now that I have recognized my own injustice. ,, 

This apology, more sincere than lucid, elicited 
no response. We had, as I finished, passed 
through the church, and we found ourselves 
suddenly among the cavalcade. Our appearance 
was greeted with a little buzz of applause. The 
Little Countess was surrounded by a gay crowd 
who appeard to be offering their congratula- 
tions, probably on the wager she had won. She 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


135 


received them with an indifferent air, and finally 
touched the whip to her horse and galloped on in 
front. In the meantime, the Marquis welcomed 
me with the most marked affability, but without 
the smallest allusion to the accident which had 
brought me, so much against my will and my 
taste, to this noisy fete. He omitted however, 
not one single thing which could help to make 
me forget my annoyance. 

In a very little while, the dogs scented a stag, 
and I followed them eagerly, as I was by no 
means indifferent to the excitement of this 
manly sport, although it would not content me 
for all time and seasons. 

The scent was lost, and the day ended to the 
satisfaction of the stag. About four o’clock, we 
turned our faces homeward. When we passed 
through the valley, we saw, through the gather- 
ing twilight, the hills and the trees which crowned 
them, against the sky. A melancholy shadow 
brooded over the woods and a white mist hung 
over the meadows, while a denser fog marked the 


136 THE LITTLE COUNTESS.* 

line of the little river. I was absorbed in the 
contemplation of this scene and in the memories 
it evoked, when all at once I beheld Madame de 
Palme at my side. 

“ I have come to the conclusion, after some 
reflection,” she said, with her usual abruptness, 
u that you despise my ignorance and my lack of 
cleverness, much more than you do my levity of 
manner. Am I not right ? ” 

“ No,” I answered, laughing, “ you are alto- 
gether wrong. First, the word ‘ despise ’ should 
be suppressed, for it is useless here. In the next 
place, I do not believe in your ignorance any 
more than I do in your lack of cleverness. I 
am however very much disturbed by the impor- 
tance you seem to attach to my opinion. The 
secret of my likes and dislikes is very simple. I 
have, as you once said, the most religious respect 
for virtue, but my own is bounded by a profound 
appreciation of certain essential duties which I 
fulfil more or less well. I should not dream of 
exacting more than this from any one. I confess 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 137 

however, that life seems to me too serious a 
thing to be treated as a perpetual ball from the 
cradle to the tomb. Again, works of art are my 
predilection — books occupy my time — and it 
is natural for me to talk of those things which 
interest me most. That is all.” 

“ Then a woman, to arouse your interests, 
must be enthusiastic and sentimental — must talk 
of cemeteries and the Venus of Milo — otherwise, 
in your opinion, she is neither a woman of sense 
nor a woman of taste ? In some points you are 
right. I never think ; if I did, even for one 
single moment, I believe I should go crazy — 
my head would crack open ! And of what have 
you been meditating, in your old cell in this 
monastery ? ” 

“ I have been thinking much of you,” I said, 
gayly, “ of the evening when you hunted me so 
cruelly, and when I cursed you with my whole 
heart.” 

She began to laugh and looked around. 

“ What a lovely valley ! ” she cried, “and what 


138 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


a lovely evening ! You do not curse me now ? ” 
she asked, turning a little toward me. 

“No, I would gladly do something which 
might add to your happiness.” 

“And I, in my turn, would do the same,” she 
answered, simply. 

I bowed slightly and a brief silence ensued. 

“ If I were a man,” said my companion, 
hastily, I think that I would be a hermit.” 

“ That would be a great pity, Madame.” 

“ But does not this notion surprise you ? ” 

“ Not in the least.” 

“ Nothing would astonish you, I believe ! You 
think me capable of anything, of every thing — 
perhaps even of loving you ? ” 

“And why not? You might even come 
to that. I love you now-a-days, and my example 
would be an excellent one to follow.” 

“ You will allow me to reflect a little ” 

“ Not very long.” 

“ But in the meantime we are friends, are we 
not?” 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


139 


“If we are friends,” I answered, as I shook 
hands with the Little Countess, “we have nothing 
more to ask for ! ” 

I felt that the slight pressure of the hand she 
accorded me, was cold and reserved, and the con- 
versation ended. We were on the brow of the 
hill at that moment; it was growing late and we 
rode to the chateau at full speed. 

As I left my room for dinner, I met the hostess 
in the corridor. 

“ Well,” she said, with a laugh, “ did you con- 
form to the rules ? ” 

“ Most religiously, Madame.” 

“ And you admit yourself subjugated ? ” 

“ I do indeed ! ” 

“ Then it is all right. She is now at ease, and 
so are you.” 

66 Amen ! ” I answered. 

The evening passed without any especial inci- 
dent. I pleased myself by rendering to Madame 
de Palme several little services, which she no 
longer claimed from me. She left her partner 


140 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


several times when she was dancing, to utter 
some jesting remark to me, and when I left the 
salon, she followed me to the door with a cordial, 
friendly glance. 

I ask you now, Paul, to define the precise 
sense and the moral of this history. You will 
think possibly, that only a lively imagination can 
impart the proportions of an event to an ordi- 
nary episode of every-day life ; but if you see in 
these facts which I here narrate, the smallest 
germ of danger, the slightest indication of a 
serious complication, you must say so, and I will 
break every engagement here and depart. 

I do not love Madame de Palme ; I cannot 
even desire to love her. My opinion in regard 
to her, however, is totally changed. Her head is 
light and will always remain so ; but her conduct 
is much more correct than I supposed, and her 
heart is where, and as it ought to be. I have 
the sincerest friendship for her, and an affec- 
tion which is most paternal; but that is all. We 
are widely separated. The idea of being her 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


141 


husband is infinitely amusing to me, while the 
thought of becoming her lover fills me with 
horror. This I think you will understand. As 
to herself, I think she feels the shadow of a 
caprice for me, but not even the penumbra of a 
passion. I am simply placed upon her etagere 
with her other curiosities, and I agree with 
Madame de Malonet that this is all she desires. 
Now what is your opinion ? ” 

I think it necessary to remind you, Paul, as I 
draw my confession to a close — which I must 
admit has a suspicious air — that I am not a 
conceited fool, however much I may seem to be ! 
I have told you the absolute truth. It is not 
conceit, to recognize the fact that a woman 
presses your hand when you take hers to bid her 
good-by, but the conceit lies in being vain of a 
success which is common enough, and is by no 
means reserved for merit. 

I remember that actor on a country stage — 
old, hideous and awkward, — who told me that 
a magnificent woman once said to him : 


142 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


“ Oh ! you are not a man — you are a god ! ” 

I am sure what he said was true. Yes, a 
merciful heaven allows even the ugliest of mor- 
tals — even our, friend G., of the institute — the 
joy of hearing at least once in his life, from a 
woman’s lips, that he is as handsome as a god ! 
Every blind man finds a dog which will follow 
him, but he is not proud of this ! 

Good-night. 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


143 


CHAPTER VII. 

A STRANGE INTERVIEW. 

D EAR PAUL: I share your grief and your 
anxiety. Only, let me assure you, after 
reading your letter carefully, that the illness of 
your excellent mother does not strike me as so 
dangerous as you think. It is hard to bear both 
for you and her, but you must remember that she 
has, each year, just about this time, a similar 
attack, of more or less severity. Patience, then, 
and courage, I beg of you. 

Only your earnest solicitation would induce me 
to venture on intruding my small annoyances on 
you at this time. As you in your wisdom fore- 
saw, I had need when your letter reached me, not 
of advice, but of consolation. My heart is not at 
ease and, what is worse, my head is less so ; and 
yet I have done my duty, as I understand it. 
Upon my life, I am sometimes envious of those 


144 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


persons whom I see yield, without a scruple and 
without a struggle, to whatever attracts or repels 
them. How tormenting does conscience become 
to a nature which is naturally honest, but which 
has no steadfast guide in fixed principles and 
positive faith. 

I resume the account of my situation toward 
Madame de Palme precisely where I dropped it 
in my last letter. 

From the day of our explanation I took care to 
establish our relations on the footing of bonne 
camaraderie , which, in my eyes, was the most 
desirable, as well as the only possible one for. us. 
It seemed to me at first that she was as gay as 
ever. The only change I could detect was, that 
when she spoke to me, it was in a graver voice 
than is habitual with her; but, as days elapsed, 
when I still adhered to the line of conduct I had 
marked out, it was impossible for me not to see 
that the Little Countess had lost much of her 
gayety, and that a certain preoccupation marred 
the serenity of her brow. 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


145 


I saw that her partners rallied her on her 
absentrmindedness. She followed, rather than 
led, the whirlwind. She alleged fatigue in the 
middle of a walk, left her partner without the 
smallest ceremony, and seated herself in a remote 
corner. If there happened to be a chair near 
mine, she would rush into it, and begin behind 
her fan, a conversation — disconnected and abrupt 
— something like this : 

“If I cannot be a hermit, Lean become a nun! 
What should you say if you were to see me enter 
a convent to-morrow ? ” 

“ I should say that you would leave it the next 
day.” 

“You have no confidence in my resolutions, 
then?” 

“None — when they are foolish ones.” 

“You mean that all mine are foolish, I sup- 
pose?” 

“ In my opinion you waltz exquisitely. To 
waltz as you do is an art and — almost a virtue.” 

“Do friends flatter each other?” 

9 


146 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


“ I do not flatter you. I never utter a word to 
you that I have not weighed, and which is not 
the absolute expression of my thoughts. I am a 
serious man, madame.” 

“ So I should say. I honestly believe you 
would like to see me hate laughter as much as I 
have hitherto loved it.” 

“ I do not understand you.” 

“ How am I looking to-night ? ” 

“ You are dazzling ! ” 

“ That will not do. I know that I am not 
beautiful.” 

“ I do not say you are, but you are very 
charming — ” 

“ Thanks. I feel that you mean what you 
say.” 

“ The Widow of Malabar is beautiful.” 

“ Yes ; I should like to see her on the funeral 
pyre.” 

“ That you might throw yourself in it with 
her?” 


“ Precisely.” 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


147 


“ Are you going away soon ? ” 

“ Next week, I think. Will you come and see 
me in Paris ? ” 

“ If you will permit me.” 

“No, I will not permit you.” 

“And, in Heaven’s name, why not?” 

“ Because, in the first place, I don’t think I 
shall go back to Paris.” 

“ That is an excellent reason. But where will 
you go, madame?” 

“ I don’t know. Shall we make a pedestrian 
tour somewhere?” 

“ Most certainly. Let us start at once ! ” 

I will not fatigue you, my dear friend, by the 
recital of a dozen similar dialogues, which 
Madame de Palme sought and began during the 
next four days. They were the result of the 
effort she made to release herself from her 
commonplace surroundings, and also to give to 
our interview an air of great intimacy, and on 
mine, to a firm determination to keep within 
the limits of nonsense and airy nothings. 


148 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


She saw this clearly. Sometimes it amused 
her and she laughed ; at others, she was vexed 
and plainly showed her vexation. This new 
intimacy did not escape the jealous and envious 
observation, which watched over every act com- 
mitted by the Little Countess — all the more 
because she made no attempt to conceal it, but 
was as frank and open as a child. She noticed 
soon the annoyance I felt at the curiosity with 
which we were regarded. 

“ I compromise you,” she would say, quickly. 
“I am going away.” 

I did nothing, my friend, to retain her, as you 
may readily divine ; for you know me well 
enough to be certain that my reserve was sin- 
cere. My system was to keep Madame de 
Palme at a distance, so far as I could do so 
without wounding her. 

I cannot divine even now what better course I 
could have adopted, although it has not met with 
the success I hoped. Were I to be entirely 
frank, too, I should say in my defence that more 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 149 

than a little courage was required, not to reject 
the petty gratification of vanity to which the 
world attaches so much value, hut to repress the 
secret attraction I felt toward this young crea- 
ture. Her grace, her beauty and her sweetness 
found my heart less firm than my resolutions. 

I have now reached the scene which should 
terminate this painful struggle. 

As a farewell to their daughter, whose husband 
was suddenly recalled to England, the Marquis 
and Madame de Malonet gave a great ball last 
night, to which every one for ten leagues about 
had been invited. About ten o’clock, the crowd 
poured into the chateau, and toilettes, jewels, 
lights and flowers were mingled in delightful 
confusion. 

As I was entering the salon, I met Madame de 
Malonet face to face. She started and drew me a 
little aside. 

“My dear sir,” she said, in a hasty whisper, “I 
do not like the way things are going.” 

“ Good heavens ! What is wrong ? ” 


150 THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 

“I cannot say, but be careful. I have had 
the greatest confidence in you, and I am sure I 
may continue to rely on you. May I not?” 

Her eyes were full of tears. 

“ Madame, count on me ; but I am going away 
in a week.” 

“ Is that really so ? I do not know whether 
to be glad or sorry. Ah, me ! Who would have 
ever dreamed of such a thing! Hush!” added 
the Marquise, hastily. 

I turned and saw the Little Countess coming 
toward us. The crowd opened before her with 
that timid eagerness amounting almost to terror 
with which supreme elegance in the female sex 
is apt to inspire our own. 

In these young queens of a night, when they 
appear before us clothed in all the paraphernalia 
of worldly pomp, pacing, with victorious foot, 
their circumscribed, but charming kingdom, there 
is, unquestionably, a certain magnetism. It may 
be that it lies in their haughty brows, in their gay 
glances — at all events, it is there. 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


151 


Madame de Palme struck me for the first time 
as beautiful. A strange expression, and one I 
had never before seen on her face, absolutely 
irradiated and transformed it. 

“ Do I please you to-night ? ” she said, softly. 

I do not know what I said, but my admiration 
was plainly visible to a woman's penetrating eye. 

“ I came to find you,” she said, “ because I 
wish to show you the hot-houses. They are 
fairy-land. Come ! ” 

She took my arm and we went toward the 
door of the conservatory, which opened at the 
other end of the salon and stretched out toward 
the park — a wilderness of bloom, beauty and 
perfume. While we admired the effect of the 
girandoles, sparkling amid the luxuriant tropical 
Flora like the constellations of another hemi- 
sphere, several men came to ask Madame de 
Palme to dance. She refused, although I was 
unselfish enough to join my entreaties to theirs. 

“ Our roles seem to be somewhat changed,” 
she said, half sadly. “ I keep you and you send 
me away ! ” 


152 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


“ Heaven forbid! But I fear that you are 
depriving yourself, out of kindness to me, of a 
pleasure which you enjoy and in which you 
shine.” 

“ No, that is not it. I know very well that I 
am always seeking you and you always avoiding 
me. It is absurd enough in the eyes of the 
amiable people around us, but I really do not 
care myself. And this one evening I intend to 
amuse myself precisely as I please, and forbid 
you to disturb my happiness, for I am really 
happy to-night. I have all I need — flowers, 
music, lights and a friend at my side! Only 
there is one shadow in my blue sky. I am more 
secure of my flowers and my music than I am of 
my friend.” 

“ Then you are very wrong ! ” 

“ Explain your conduct to me then will you ? 
— and once for all. Why will you never talk 
seriously with me ? Why do you refuse so obsti- 
nately to utter one single word which indicates 
confidence, intimacy, or friendship ? 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


153 


“ Reflect a moment Madame, where would that 
lead us ? ” 

“ Where would it lead us! Let it lead us 
wherever it will.” 

“ But what idea would you have of me were I 
to fall in love with you now ? ” 

“I do not ask you to fall in love with me,” she 
answered eagerly. 

“No Madame, I know that, but that is the 
tone my language would invariably take, were it 
to cease to be frivolous and commonplace for 
even one moment. Try and think that there 
is one man in the world who will not pay court 
to you. Admit this fact and make up your mind 
not to despise him on that account. I am that 
man. I will not add that I am glad to be in this 
position, but I am in it, and do not propose to 
forget it.” 

“ You are very reasonable ! ” 

“ Madame, I am very courageous.” 

She shook her head doubtfully, and after a 
moment’s silence added : 


154 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


“ Do you know that you are speaking to me as 
if I were a worthless creature.” 

“ Madame ! ” 

“ Certainly! You think that I credit every 
man who pays me any attention with the desire 
to make me his plaything — his mistress! This is 
my idea of a lost and worthless creature, which I 
am not. You probably doubt my words, but I 
speak the truth before God, to whom I pray 
oftener than people believe. He in His mercy 
has kept me so far from doing wrong, and I hope 
He will continue to watch over me, but some- 
times I fear — ” 

She hesitated and then in a firmer voice 
went on. 

“ You can help me too.” 

“I, Madame ? ” 

“I have allowed you to assume — I do not 
know how or why — a great control over my 
destiny. Will you exercise it? This is the 
question.” 

“And under what title could I do this?” I 
replied coldly. 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


155 


“Ah!” she exclaimed in a tone of intense 
agony, “ how is it possible for you to ask me such 
a question. It is too much. You humiliate me 
cruelly.” 

She dropped my arm and hurried back to the 
salon. 

I stood for some time uncertain what I had 
best do. I wished much for- a few moments con- 
versation with the Little Countess. I wished to 
tell her that she was mistaken — which was quite 
true — in regard to the question which had so 
offended her. 

Apparently she had connected my reply with 
some thought in her own mind which her words 
had not revealed to me as clearly as she imagined, 
but after thinking it over I trembled at the idea 
of a new explanation and a new misunderstand- 
ing which would as certainly follow. 

I determined therefore to rest under the deba- 
sing imputations to which my language and 
manner had given rise, and to devour in silence 
the bitterness with which this scene had filled 
my heart. 


156 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


I left the conservatory and entered the garden 
to get away from the music of the ball-room, 
which irritated my nerves. The night was cold 
hut beautiful; a sad instinct drew me far from 
the luminous zone about the chateau thrown by 
the lighted windows. I went at once toward a 
thick mass of shadow, formed by a double avenue 
of elms which divided the garden from the park. 
I went over the rustic bridge thrown across a 
stream and entered the sombre pathway; sud- 
denly a hand was laid upon my arm, I stood still, 
and at the same moment a voice which I could 
not mistake, said to me, 

“ I must speak to you .” 

“ Madame ! In the name of Heaven, what are 
you doing ? Are you mad. Return at once to 
the chateau, I beg of you. Go with me at once. ,, 

She shook my hand from her arm. 

“ I tell you I must speak to you,” she 
repeated. “ I have decided, and yet I know that 
you will have a lower opinion of me than ever, 
and yet you should not, for you are the first for 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


157 


whom I have ever forgotten myself. Yes, the 
first. No man has ever before heard from my 
lips one word of tenderness, never ! But you 
will not believe me.” 

I took both her hands in mine. 

“ I do believe you. I swear that I believe you. 
I swear that I respect you — that I respect you as 
I would my own dear daughter ! But listen to 
me. Do not brave the world in that way. It is 
very pitiless. Keturn to the ball room, I will 
see you there after a little — I give you my 
word — but in the name of Heaven go at once.” 

The poor child burst into tears. I felt that 
she swayed to and fro like a slender birch in the 
wind ; I placed her gently on one of the benches 
near by, and stood in front of her holding her 
hand in mine. The darkness around us was 
intense. I heard the clear ripple of the little 
stream, and the convulsive sob which tore the 
breast of the young creature, and high above all, 
the odious braying of the orchestra in the ball- 
room, brought to us at intervals by the wind. 


158 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


It was one of those moments which we remem- 
ber as long as we have life. She in a moment 
more resumed all her firmness. She hastily 
withdrew her hand as she rose. 

“ Sir/’ she said, “ give yourself no uneasiness 
in regard to my reputation ; the world is accus- 
tomed to my follies. Besides, I took certain 
precautions, which will prevent my absence from 
being remarked. It is of no consequence either 
— if it were — for you are the only man whose 
esteem and regard I have ever craved, and you 
are also the only one who has any right to 
despise me. This is very hard. What can I say 
to you to convince you that I am undeserving of 
your contempt ? ” 

“ Madame ! — I ** 

“ Hear me, and in God's name, believe me, for 
this is the turning point of my life. From the 
first moment that I saw you, from the day when 
I looked over your shoulder as you sat drawing 
in the old church, from that day, I have belonged 
to you, body and soul. I love you and shall 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


159 


never love any one but you. Will you have me 
as your wife ? I am worthy. I swear that I am 

worthy — I swear before high heaven ” 

“ Dear Madame — dear child, your goodness, 
your tenderness, stir the depths of my soul. In 
heaven’s name, calm yourself ; do not shake my 
reason to its foundation ! ” 

“ Ah ! let your heart speak ; listen to that 
alone. It is not your reason that should sit in 
judgment upon me ! Alas ! I feel that you still 
doubt me — that you are not sure of my past. 
Oh, my God ! how the world now avenges itself, 
for my disregard of its opinions ! ” 

“ No, Madame, you are mistaken ; but what 
could I offer in exchange for the sacrifice you 
would make to me of the habits, tastes and pleas- 
ures of your whole life ? ” 

“ But this life fills me with horror ! Do you 
think I should regret it ? Do you think that if 
I were once your wife, that I should ever become 
again the woman I now am — the reckless crea- 
ture you have known ? You think this, and how 


160 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


can I prevent you from believing it ? And yet, 
I know very well that I would never give you 
that pain, nor any other. Never ! ” 

“ I have read in your eyes, a whole new world, 
of which I have hitherto been ignorant — a world 
that is more elevated than any of which I ever 
dreamed — and in which I wish to live. Ah ! 
you ought to feel that my lips speak the truth.” 

“ Yes, Madame, your lips speak the truth — 

the truth of the present moment ; a brief mo- 

*■ 

ment of fever and exaltation — but this new 
world which you see as through a glass, darkly — 
this ideal world, which you fondly imagine to be 
an ark of refuge in all seasons of disgust, will 
never be to you what you imagine. Deception, 
regret and disappointment await you there, and 
not you alone. I do not know whether there be 
any man living — good enough, noble enough, 
to make you love this new existence of which 
you dream — great enough to retain in your 
eyes the almost divine attributes with which your 
imagination now invests him. I know however, 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


161 


that this task which would be very sweet and 
dear to me, would also be far above my strength. 
I should be mad to accept it. I should be worse, 
for I should be a scoundrel ! ” 

“ Is this your decision ? Can nothing change 
it?” 

“ Nothing.” 

“ Farewell, then. Ah ! wretched woman that 
I am ! Farewell once more ! ” 

She seized my hand, pressed it convulsively, 
and disappeared. I dropped upon the bench 
where she had sat. All my strength left me. I 
hid my head in my hands, and I wept like a 
child. Thank God, I was alone; she did not 
return. 

As soon as I could regain my composure, I 
returned to the ball-room for a few moments. I 
saw no indication of my absence having been 
remarked, or that any one had put any disagree- 
able interpretation upon it. Madame de Palme 
was dancing, and with mad gayety. Supper was 
presently announced, and I took advantage of 
10 


162 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


that momentary confusion to retire from the 
scene. Early this morning, I asked a private 
interview of Madame de Malonet, feeling that 
she was entitled to my entire confidence. She 
received it with sadness, but without surprise. 

u I divined it all,” she said, slowly. “ I could 
not sleep all night. I think you have done your 
duty — your duty as an honest man, and as a 
wise man ; and yet you must have seemed very 
hard to her. A worldly life is utterly detestable, 
in that it creates characters and passions — 
unforeseen situations — imperceptible shades of 
difficulty, which strangely complicate the ful- 
filment of duties, and obscure the right path, 
which should always be simple and easy to 
discover. And now you are going away?” 

“ Yes, Madame.” 

“ So be it; but remain two or three days 
longer, and in that way take from your depar- 
ture the air of a flight, which if any suspicions 
are awakened, will be looked upon as ridiculous, 
and may lead to something worse. I am aware 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


163 


that I am asking a great sacrifice at your hands. 
To-day we are all to dine with Madame de 
Breuilly. I will take it upon myself to make 
your excuses, so that this day at least will be 
lightened for you. To-morrow, we will do our 
best, and the next day, you will go.” 

I agreed to this. I shall soon see you, dear 
Paul, and I need you. I need to feel the pres- 
sure of your firm and loyal hand, and hear you 
say : “ You have done right ! ” 


164 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

REVENGE. 

Du Rosel, October 10th. 

B EHOLD me again in my cell, my friend. 

Why did I ever leave it ? Never did any 
man feel a more troubled heart beat within these 
cold walls than mine. Ah ! I do not wish to 
curse our poor reason, our wisdom, our moral 
and hifman philosophy, for they are all we have 
that is noble and elevated. But, God in Heaven ! 
it is so little, after all ! Such blind guides and 
such frail reeds to lean upon ! 

Listen to my sad tale. Yesterday, thanks to 
Madame de Malonet, I was alone at the chateau 
all day and all the evening. It was peaceful and 
quiet. About midnight, I heard the carriages 
coming back, and soon all noise ceased. It was, 
I think, about three o’clock in the morning, when 
I was awakened from the torpor, rather than 
sleep, in which I have spent the last two or three 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


165 


nights, by the noise of a door opening and shut- 
ting with some degree of caution. I do not 
know by what connection of ideas so ordinary an 
incident aroused my attention. At all events, I 
started from my couch and went to the window. 
I saw a man leave the court-yard and enter the 
avenue. I saw, too, that the door through which 
he went, was that which gave access to the wing 
next the library. This part of the chateau is 
reserved for guests who come and go. I knew 
that the rooms were all vacant at that time, 
unless Madame de Palme, as often happens, had 
spent the night at the chateau. 

Can you guess the strange idea that instantly 
passed through my mind? I repelled it, but it 
returned persistently. At last, finding in my 
memory certain events of my past life, and also 
others which came under my personal observa- 
tion, which all gave a color to my sick fancy, I 
welcomed the idea with equal irony, and looked 
upon it as an odious, but decisive, denouement. 

The dawn surprised me in these spasms of 


166 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


mental agony, dwelling on all that was painful, 
and going over and over again all the circum- 
stances which would tend to confirm or destroy 
my suspicions. 

I am indebted to my excessive fatigue for two 
hours of intolerable despair, when I absolutely 
was not master of my reason. I could not doubt 
the evidences of my senses as to what I had seen 
during the night, but I at last decided that I had 
leaped too hastily to a conclusion, and that my 
sick soul had interpreted it in the most unlikely 
manner. 

If, however, my worst presentiments were jus- 
tified, I had reason to feel profoundly saddened 
before such a painful testimony of the perversity 
and mobility of a woman’s heart. I had, how- 
ever, lost all right to show my indignation. The 
most ordinary sentiment of dignity would compel 
me to feign indifference, whatever I might really 
feel. If it were possible that she had avenged 
herself against me at such a terrible price, she 
should not read her success in my face. And I 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


167 


said to myself, that my speedy departure would 
soon relieve her of the insupportable reproach 
of my presence. 

I went down stairs at about half-past ten, as 
usual. Madame de Palme was in the salon, which 
showed that she had spent the night at the 
chateau. To look at her, however, was to lose 
every shadow of suspicion. She was talking with 
a tranquil air, the centre of a group, and bowed 
to me, with her usual sweet smile. An immense 
weight was lifted from my heart. The relief was 
so great — the doubt had been so painful — that 
my original grief was as nothing. Never had my 
head bowed down with sincere homage before 
this fair woman. I was thankful to believe her 
purity unsmirched. 

The afternoon was to be devoted to an excur- 
sion on horseback to the sea-shore. In the sudden 
amiability caused by the removal of the night’s 
cares and anxieties, I yielded willingly to the 
entreaties of the Marquis, who, in view of my 
approaching departure, urged that I should make 
one of this last pleasure party. 


168 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


Our cavalcade, recruited as usual, by several 
young men of the neighborhood, started forth 
about two o’clock. We galloped along for some 
minutes and I was not the least gay of the party, 
when, all at once, Madame de Palme rode up to 
my side. 

“ I am about to be guilty of a dastardly act,” 
she said. “ I am about to break a promise ; but I 
am stifling ! ” 

I looked at her. The wild expression of her 
eyes and a certain drawn look in her features 
struck a chill terror to my soul. 

“Well,” she said, in a voice whose tones I 
shall never forget, “ you wished it. I am a lost 
woman ! ” 

She turned her horse’s head and was gone, 
leaving me thunder-struck at this blow, which 
was all the more severe as I had ceased to fear it, 
and which attacked me now with an additional 
sting which I had not foreseen. 

In the voice of this most unhappy woman 
there was not a trace of triumphant insolence. 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


169 


It was the voice of despair — a cry of grief, min- 
gled with timid reproach — all which could add 
to the torture of my soul the additional pangs of 
profound pity and an awakened conscience. 
When I had strength to look around me, I was 
astonished at my own blindness. 

Among the most devoted of Madame de 
Palme’s admirers was a certain Monsieur de Mau- 
turne, whose manner to me, though civil, had 
always struck me as one of veiled hostility. 

De Mauturne was a man of my own age, tall, 
blonde, and more robust than elegant — hand- 
some certainly, but of a very heavy style of 
beauty. He has social talent of a certain order, 
but no wit. His whole air and manner on the 
day of which I write ought to have shown me, 
even if my suspicions had not been aroused, that 
he believed himself to have the right to frown 
away all rivals from the side of the Little Coun- 
tess. He claimed the first role in all the scenes 
in which she mingled. He overwhelmed her 
with devotion, and his manner toward her was 


170 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


important and full of affected discretion. He 
lowered his voice when he spoke to her, and did 
his best to show the public the excellent terms 
he was on with her. But his pains were thrown 
away, for the world, having exhausted its malice 
on imaginary faults, was blind to the evidence 
which was thus thrust forward. 

It would be quite impossible for me to depict 
emotions and thoughts which jostled each other 
in my weary heart and brain. The sentiment 
which was dominant, however, was my violent 
hatred of this man — a hatred that was implac- 
able and eternal. I was, in truth, more shocked, 
more grieved than surprised, by the choice she 
had made. He was simply the first comer. She 
had taken him as one snatches a weapon when 
suicide is decided upon. 

My sentiments toward her you have divined : 
no anger, but intense sadness and tender compas- 
sion, mingled with vague remorse, below all of 
which was a mad, passionate regret. I knew at 
last that I loved her, and could not understand, 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 171 

or even recall, the reasons which, two days 
before, had seemed to me so strong and impera- 
tive that they created between her and me a 
barrier that could never be passed. 

All these obstacles of the Past disappeared 
before the abyss of the Present, which now 
seemed to me the only reality, the only obstacle 
which it was impossible to surmount, the only 
one which had ever existed. 

How strange it was. I saw clearly, as clearly 
as one sees the sun at noon, that the impossible, 
the irreparable was there and I could not accept 
it, I could not be resigned to it. 

I knew that this woman was as utterly lost to 
me as if the tomb had closed upon her coffin, and 
yet I could not give her up. My thoughts 
roamed from point to point. I formed projects 
after projects, resolution after resolution. I 
determined to seek a quarrel with Monsieur de 
Mauturne and force him to a duel. I knew that 
I should kill him. Then I dreamed of flying with 
her, of marrying her, of taking her with her 
shame, when I had refused her in her purity. 


172 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


Yes, I was tempted even to this, and the only 
way in which I dismissed this temptation w r as by 
reminding myself that disgust and despair were 
the inevitable fruit of a union like this, of a tar- 
nished hand with one that was blood-stained. 
Ah ! Paul, how I have suffered ! 

Madame de Palme all this afternoon was in 
a state of intense nervous excitement, which 
showed itself by the maddest freaks of horse- 
manship. I heard her laugh, and the sound 
stabbed me to my heart as if it had been a 
despairing sob. Once again she addressed me 
as she passed. 

“ I fill you with horror, do I not ? ” she asked 
with intense bitterness. 

I shook my head. I could not speak. We 
returned to the chateau about four o’clock. I 
went at once to my room, I suddenly heard a 
great tumult below, voices and hurried steps. 
My heart stood still. 

I went down to the hall, where I was told that 
Madame de Palme had just been taken with a 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 173 

violent nervous attack, and had been carried into 
the salon. I heard through the closed door, 
Madame de Malonet’s grave and gentle voice and 
a quick hysterical sobbing like a sick child. I 
fled in despair ; I determined to leave the place 
at once. Nothing should detain me one other 
moment. Your letter which was handed to me 
when I went in, would serve as an excuse for my 
sudden departure, for every one knows our close 
intimacy. I said that .you needed me at once ; I 
had taken pains to send three days before to the 
next town, to have a carriage and horses sent to 
the chateau for me. In a very few minutes my 
preparations were completed, and I bade the 
coachman wait at the end of the avenue while I 
made my adieux. The Marquis seemed to have 
no suspicion of the truth : the good old man was 
very sweet and tender as he received my thanks 
for his kindness and for the warm affection which 
he had shown me which was out of proportion 
with the short duration of our acquaintance. 

Monsieur de Breuilly was also excessively 


174 THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 

kind, and made me feel very much ashamed of 
the caricature I sent you the other day when I 
made an attempt to draw his portrait. 

Madame de Malonet walked a few steps down 
the avenue with me. I felt her hand tremble on 
my arm while she gave me some trifling commis- 
sions for Paris. Just as we were about to part and 
as I pressed her hand with effusion she detained 
me gently. 

“Well,” she said in a faint voice, “God has 
not blessed our efforts.” 

“Madame, our hearts are open to him, he has 
read our sincerity. He sees that I suffer, and I 
humbly hope for His forgiveness.” 

“ Do not doubt it ! Do not doubt it,” replied 
the Marquise faintly, “ but she — ! poor child ! ” 

“Have pity on her, Madame, do not desert 
her — Farewell! ” 

I quitted her in great haste, and I am here 
now — only, instead of going at once toward the 
village, I drove on the Abbey road until we 
reached the top of the hills. Then I bade the 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 175 

coachman go on to the town, and return the next 
day at dawn to the same place. 

My friend, I cannot explain the irresistible 
temptation which impelled me to pass one last 
night in the solitude, where I was so happy, only 
a little while ago. 

Behold me then, in my cell. How cold, and 
dark, and dreary ! The very skies are in mourn- 
ing too, for never since my arrival in this dis- 
trict, have I known such weather. The days 
and the nights hitherto have been delicious, in 
spite of the season. To-night, however, an 
autumnal storm is let loose in the valley; the 
wind howls through the ruins and detaches 
masses which fall with a dull thud to the ground. 
A fierce rain beats on my window, and sobs and 
sighs fill the air. 

My heart is full, and it is with difficulty that 
I keep back tears from my eyes. I have prayed 
long and earnestly unto God; not unto that 
vague and shadowy God, whom we vainly pursue 
beyond the stars, but the ever present God, dear 


176 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


to the afflicted — the God of my childhood, the 
God of this poor woman. 

I will think no more of this, but will fix my 
thoughts on seeing you soon again. Day after 
to-morrow, friend, and I shall be with you, 
perhaps, sooner than my letter. 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


177 


CHAPTER IX. 


A SUMMONS. 



OME, Paul ! If you can leave your mother, 


come to my aid, for I am in great need of 


you! 


I was just closing my letter to you, when 
amid the confusion of the tempest, my ear 
caught the sound of a voice — a pitiful woman's 
voice. I rushed to the window, and opening it, 
I threw myself as far out as possible, and in the 
dim light I perceived a vague mass on the 
ground below, a mere gleam of whiteness. At 
the same moment, a sigh and moan ascended to 
me. A gleam of the terrible truth pierced my 
heart like a sharp blade. 

In the darkness I opened the door. Near by, 
stood an abandoned horse ; a woman’s saddle was 
upon his back. I ran around to the other side of 
the ruin, and under my window, among the 


11 


178 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


graves of the old monks, I found the poor crea- 
ture. She was there crouched under a fallen 
stone, shivering from head to foot, under the 
torrents of icy water, pouring down from the 
pitiless sky on her delicate form, still clad in her 
festal raiment. I snatched both her hands and 
tried to raise her. 

“ Ah 1 my poor child ! What have you done ? 
— poor, unhappy soul ! ” 

“ Yes,” she murmured, dreamily,” poor, un- 
happy soul! ” Her voice was as faint as a sigh. 

“ You are killing yourself ! ” 
u So much the better ! — so much the better! ” 
“ You can not stay there another moment. 
Come now ! ” 

I saw that she was unable to reply. She 
trembled and her teeth chattered. I lifted her 
in my arms and carried her away. Reflection 
comes quickly at such times, There was no 
possible way to take her from this valley, where 
a carriage could never penetrate. 

It was impossible to save her reputation, 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


179 


therefore we had only to think of her life. I bore 
her in my arms to my cell, and placed her in an 
arm-chair, near the fire, which I hastily lighted ; 
then I awakened the Miller and his wife, giving 
some vague, confused explanation. I do not 
know how much or how little she understood, 
but she was a woman, and as such, compassion- 
ate. She did every thing in her power for 
Madame de Palme. I sent her husband off on 
horseback at once, with the following note to the 
Marquise : 

“ Madame : — She is here and dying ; in the 
name of God, come to her. Come and console 
her, who has no right to expect, in all this wide 
world, from any one but yourself, a word of 
kindness or forgiveness. Say to Madame de 
Pontbrian just what you consider best.” 

I heard her speak and hurried back to her 
side. She was still seated before the fire, having 
refused to be carried to the bed that had been 
prepared for her. 


180 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


When she saw me — so strange are women — 
her first thought was of the peasant dress, which 
the Miller’s wife had substituted for her drenched 
garments. She began to laugh as she pointed to 
them, but her laugh terminated in hysterics, 
which I had the greatest difficulty in calming. 

I found that she complained of cold, although 
she had a horrible fever, and her eyes glittered. 
I implored her to try and sleep, as sleep was 
essential to her recovery. 

“ Why should I sleep ? ” she said ; I am not ill 
— not in the least ill. It is not fever that is 
killing me, nor is it the cold — it is my brain — 
my memory that is wearing upon me. It is 
shame, it is your hatred and your contempt, 
now so well merited.” 

Then my heart spoke, Paul, I told her all my 
passion, my regrets and my remorse. I covered 
her trembling hands, her disheveled hair and 
burning forehead with kisses. I poured into her 
poor wounded heart, all that the soul of a man 
can contain of tenderness, pity and adoration. 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


181 


She knew that I loved her ; she could no longer 
doubt it. She listened in rapt silence. At last 
she spoke : 

“ You need pity me no longer/’ she said, 
softly ; “ I was never so happy in my life. I do 
not deserve this happiness. I have nothing more 
to wish for — nothing better to ask.” 

She sank into a slumber, disturbed at intervals 
by violent starts, while a frown of pain drove the 
faint smile from her lips. I am watching her as 
I write. Madame de Malonet has come with her 
husband. I had well judged her; her voice and 
her words have been those of a mother. She 
brought a physician, and the invalid now lies in 
a comfortable bed, surrounded by kindly care. I 
am more at ease, though the doctor says we may 
anticipate a brain fever. 

Madame de Pontbrian had absolutely refused 
to come to her niece. She, too, — this excellent 
Christian — I had justly estimated. I am not to 
be allowed to enter the cell where the poor 
Little Countess lies. Madame de Malonet never 


4 . 

182 THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 

leaves her. I am terrified each time I look at the 
Marquis, for his face is utterly dreary. Yet he 
tells me that the physician as yet has pronounced 
no opinion. 

When the Doctor was ready to leave, I took 
him aside. 

“It is,” he said, “inflammation of the lungs, 
complicated by brain fever.” 

“ She is very ill, is she not ? ” 

“ Very ill.” 

“ Is there immediate danger ? ” 

“I will tell you to-night. The disease has 
declared itself with such severity that it cannot 
last long. It will terminate quickly, one way or 
another.” 

“ You have little hope, sir ? ” 

He looked up at the sky and went away. 

, I hardly know what more to write to you, my 
friend. These blows have come with such 
rapidity that I am absolutely stunned. 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


183 


CHAPTER X. 

FIVE O’CLOCK IN THE EVENING. 

HEY have sent in haste for the Priest, whom 



JL I have often seen at the chateau. He is a 
dear friend of Madame de Malonet — an aged 
man, of simple faith and charity. 

I did not dare ask a question when he left that 
fatal room, and I know absolutely nothing of 
what is going on there. I fear to know, and yet 
my ear listens eagerly for the faintest sound. A 
door opening or shutting, a hurried step on the 
stairs, fill me with terror. 

Paul ! my friend ! my brother ! where are 
you ? All is over ! 

An hour ago, I saw the Priest and the Physi- 
cian go down stairs together. Monsieur de Malo- 
net then came to me. 

“ Come,” he said, “ be a man ! You will need 
all your courage.” 


184 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


I entered the cell. Madame de Malonet was 
there alone and kneeling at the side of the bed. 
She signed to me to approach. I gazed down 
upon her whose sufferings were soon to cease. 
These few hours had changed that lovely face, on 
which the fingers of Death now rested. Her 
eyes were unchanged, however, and she instantly 
recognized me. 

She opened her lips and murmured faintly : 

“See — George — I have loved you very ten- 
derly ! Forgive me for having poisoned your life 
with this sad remembrance ! ” 

I fell on my knees. I tried to speak, but 
could not. My burning tears fell on the hand 
that was chill as marble. 

“And you too, dear lady/’ she resumed, “for- 
give me for the harm I have done you.” 

“ My child ! ” said the old lady, “ I bless you 
from the bottom of my heart.” 

Then there was a long silence, in the midst of 
which I suddenly heard a long, shuddering sigh. 

Ah! that last sigh! that last sob of mortal 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 185 

agony ! God also heard and gathered it to 
Himself ! 

He heard it. He heard, too, my ardent, 
despairing prayer. I believe this, my friend. I 
must believe it ; otherwise I should yield to utter 
despair. I must believe in a God who loves us — 
who views with pitying eye the struggles and 
pangs of our torn and bleeding hearts — who will 
deign some day to heal the wounds and restore to 
each other, in a better world, those whom He has 
seen fit to separate in this. 

Ah ! before the inanimate body of a beloved 
being, what heart is sufficiently arid, what 
brain so withered by doubt, as not to repel the 
odious thought that these sacred words, “ God, 
Justice, Love and Immortality,” are only vain 
syllables, without sense and meaning ! 

Farewell, Paul. If you can come to me, come 
at once. If not, wait for me where you are. I 
shall soon be with you. 


186 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


CHAPTER XI. 

LETTER FROM THE MARQUIS TO MON- 
SIEUR PAUL B. 

Chateau de Malonet, October 12th. 

M ONSIEUR : It is a duty as imperative as it 
is painful, to retrace the facts which have 
led to the supreme misfortune which you have 
already learned, and which has fallen with crush- 
ing violence on our hearts, already so sorely 
wounded. These brief weeks of our acquaintance 
with your friend — few as they have been — were 
enough for us to learn to appreciate him, and to 
feel an enduring affection toward him — an 
enduring affection destined only too soon to 
change into an enduring regret. 

I will not speak, sir, of the sad circumstances 
which preceded this last catastrophe. You are 
aware, I know, of the fatal passion with which he 
inspired an unhappy woman whose loss we weep 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 187 

to-day. I will not recount to you either the 
scenes of mourning which followed the death of 
Madame de Palme — another winding-sheet now 
vails them. The conduct of your friend during 
these melancholy days — the deep feeling and, at 
the same time, the rigid sense of honor and duty 
which he displayed, won our admiration and our 
hearts. I wished him to leave us at once. I 
wished to send him from this sad place, and 
offered myself to go with him, determining 
not to leave him until I saw him with you ; 
but he told me that you were still detained 
in Paris, and, moreover, that he preferred to 
remain until the first shock was over for him 
and for us. 

We surrounded him with the most affectionate 
care. He never left the chateau except for a 
pious pilgrimage. His health altered sadly. Hay 
before yesterday, in the morning, Madame de 
Malonet urged him to go with Monsieur de 
Breuilly and myself for a ride on horseback. He 
consented with great reluctance. We started 


188 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


forth. On the way he exerted himself courage- 
ously to respond to the efforts we made to 
engage him in conversation and to arouse him 
from his despondency. I saw him smile for the 
first time for days, and I began to hope that time 
and friendship would do their work, when, sud- 
denly, at the turn of the road, he came face to 
face with Monsieur de Mauturne. 

This young man was on horseback. Two 
friends and two ladies were with him. We were 
going in the same direction as himself, but not at 
such a rapid pace. He passed us with a bow. I 
saw nothing objectionable in his manner, and 
was, consequently, much astonished at hearing 
Monsieur de Breuilly mutter, between his teeth : 

“ Disgraceful ! utterly disgraceful ! ” 

George had turned away his head and grown 
very pale when we first saw De Mauturne. He 
then addressed De Breuilly, eagerly : 

“ What is that you are saying, sir ? Of whom 
are you speaking?” 

“ Of the insolence of that scoundrel ! ” 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 189 

I interposed quickly, told de Breuilly that he 
was always quarrelling, and declared that I saw 
nothing out of the way in de Mauturne’s face on 
greeting, when he passed us. 

“ Then my friend,” answered Monsieur de 
Breuilly, “ you closed your eyes, or you would 
have seen, as I did, that the fellow turned as he 
looked at our companion. I do not know why 
you wish him to endure an insult which neither 
you nor I would brook.” 

This unfortunate phrase was hardly uttered, 
when Monsieur George started off at a gallop. 

“ Are you mad ? ” I said to Breuilly, who tried 
to detain me. “ And what on earth do you mean 
by this invention.” 

“My friend,” he replied, “this poor fellow’s 
attention must be distracted at all costs ! ” 

I shrugged my shoulders; it was useless to 
reply, shook off his detaining hand, and followed 
George, who, being infinitely better mounted 
than myself was far in advance; I was still at 
some distance when he joined Monsieur de 


190 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


Mauturne who drew up, as he saw him coining. I 
could see that they exchanged a few words, and 
then I saw our friend’s whip cut through the air 
and strike de Mauturne several times, full in the 
face. 

We were only just in time, de Breuilly and 
myself, to prevent this scene from becoming 
utterly disgraceful. 

A meeting of course became inevitable between 
these two gentlemen, and we at once agreed upon 
the seconds. George left us to go to the chateau. 
The choice of arms belonged unquestionably to 
his adversary. But having noted that his two 
seconds seemed to hesitate, with apparent indiffer- 
ence between the sword and pistols, I thought 
that we might with some little address so manage 
the matter as to obtain the decision which was 
most advantageous to ourselves. We asked 
George, therefore, which he preferred. He 
expressed without the smallest hesitation a pref- 
erence for the sword. 

“But,” said de Breuilly, “you are a good 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


191 


shot — that I know — for I have seen you do some 
wonderful things. Are you equally good with 
swords ? Remember that this is a very serious 
matter, a deadly combat.” 

“I am sure of that,” he answered with a 
faint smile, “but I still prefer swords if it be 
possible.” 

On the expression of so distinct and decided a 
desire, we could only think ourselves very fortu- 
nate when the swords were decided upon. All 
was finally settled and the meeting fixed for the 
next day at nine o’clock. 

For the remainder of the day, George was 
apparently in better spirits than he had been 
for some time ; he was even gay at times. This 
surprised us all very much, particularly my wife, 
who however, knew nothing of the impending 
duel. 

At ten o’clock, he retired, and I saw his light 
burning for two hours, and more. 

Impelled by my affection, and also by some 
vague uneasiness, I went into his room about 


192 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


midnight. I found him very quiet and tran- 
quil ; he had been writing and was sealing the 
envelopes. 

“ Take these,” he said, as he placed some 
papers in my hand. “Now all is done, and I 
can sleep with a light heart.” 

I wished to give him technical advice in 
regard to the arms he was so soon to use. He 
listened to me in an absent sort of way; then 
suddenly extending his arm, he said : 

“ Feel my pulse.” 

I obeyed, and satisfied myself that in his calm- 
ness there was nothing affected or feverish. 

“A man need not be killed, with a hand as 
steady as that, unless he wishes it,” he said, 
cheerfully. “ Good-night, my dear sir.” 

I returned his good-night and left him. Yes- 
terday, at half past eight, we repaired — our 
friend, his two seconds, de Breuilly and myself — 
to a secluded road, which lay at an equal distance 
from Malone t and Mauturne, and which had 
been decided upon as the place for the duel. 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


193 


Our adversary arrived nearly as soon as our- 
selves, accompanied by his seconds. The char- 
acter of the insult did not admit of any attempt 
at conciliation. 

The adversaries at once took their positions, 
and hardly had our friend put himself on guard, 
than we saw how utterly inexperienced he was 
in the management of a sword. 

De Breuilly looked at me in amazement. 
When their blades crossed, there was an appear- 
ance of combat and defence ; but at the third 
pass, George fell with his breast pierced. I 
rushed toward him, but Death was quicker than 
I. He pressed my hand however, smiled faintly, 
and breathed a few last words, which were for 
you, sir: 

“ Tell Paul $iat he must not seek to avenge 
me, and that I wished to die.” 

He expired. 

I will add nothing more to this recital. It has 
already been too long and too harrowing ; but I 
feel that this detailed account was due to you. 

12 


194 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 


Now you know all ; you understand all, even my 
silence. He rests near her. You will come to 
us, sir, I trust. We shall look for you, and 
together we will weep over these two beings — 
both so charming — both snatched by Death, 
when life wus at its sweetest. 


THE END. 


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The Castle’s Heir; or Lady Adelaide’s Oath. By Mrs. Henry Wood, 1 75 
Oswald Cray. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of “ Roland Yorke,”.... 1 75 

Squire Trevlyn’s Heir; or Trevlyn Hold. By Mrs. Henry Wood, 1 75 

The Red Court Farm. By Mrs. Wood, author of “Verner’s Pride,” 1 75 

Elster’s Folly. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of “ Castle’s Heir,”.,. 1 75 

St. Martin’s Eve. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of “Dene Hollow,” 1 75 
Mildred Arkell. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of “East Lynne,” 1 75 

WORKS BY THE VEEY BEST AUTHORS. 

The following books are each issued in one large duodecimo volumes 
bound in cloth, at $1.75 each, or each one is inpaper cover, at $1.50 each. 


The Initials. A Love Story. By Baroness Tautpbceus, $1 7£ 

Married Beneath Him. By author of “ Lost Sir Massingberd,” 1 75 

Margaret Maitland. By Mrs. Oliphant, author of “Zaidee,” 1 75 

Family Pride. By author of “Pique,” “ Family Secrets,” etc 1 76 

Self-Sacrifice. By author of “Margaret Maitland,” etc 1 75 

The Woman in Black. A Companion to the “Woman in White,” ... 1 75 

The Autobiography of Edward Wortley Montagu, 1 75 

The Forsaken Daughter. A Companion to “Linda,” 1 75 

Love and Liberty. A Revolutionary Story. By Alexander Dumas, 1 75 

The Morrisons. By Mrs. Margaret Hosmer, 1 75 

The Rich Husband. By author of “ George Geith,” 1 75 

Woodburn Grange. A Novel. By William Howitt 1 75 

The Lost Beauty. By a Noted Lady of the Spanish Court, 1 75 

My Hero. By Mrs. Forrester. A Charming Love Story, 1 75 

Tlio Quaker Soldier. A Revolutionary Romance. By Judge Jones,.... 1 75 
Memoirs of Vidocq, the French Detective. His Life and Adventures, 1 75 
The Belle of Washington. With her Portrait. By Mrs. N. P. Lasselle, 1 75 

High Life in Washington. A Life Picture. By Mrs. N. P. Lasselle, 1 76 

Above books are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 


Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on Receipt of Retail Prioej 
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Emile Zola’s Mew Seeks® 


The Greatest Novels Ever Printed. 

—HB 

L’ASSOMMOIR. By Emile Zola , author of “The Conquest of 
Plassans,” “ The Markets of Paris,” “ The Rougon-Macquart 
Family,” “ H61&ne,” “The Abbe’s Temptation,” etc., etc. 
“ L’Assommoir ” is the most Popular Novel ever published. 
It has already attained a sale in Paris of over One Hundred 
Thousand Copies. Complete in one large square duodecimo 
volume, price 75 cents in paper cover, or One Dollar in 
Morocco Cloth, Black and Gold. 

THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS; or, LA CONQUETE 
DE PLASSANS. A Tale of Provincial Life. By Emile 
Zola. One large square duodecimo volume, price 75 cents in 
paper cover, or $1.25 in Morocco Cloth, Black and Gold. 

THE MARKETS OF PARIS; or, LE VENTRE DE 
PARIS. By Emile Zola , author of “ L’Assommoir.” One 
large square duodecimo volume, price 75 cents in paper 
cover, or $1.25 in Morocco Cloth, Black and Gold. 

THE ROUGON-MACQUART FAMILY; or, LA FOR- 
TUNE DES ROUGON. By Emile Zola , author of 
“ L’Assommoir.” One large volume, price 75 cents in paper 
cover, or $1.25 in Morocco Cloth, Black and Gold. 

HELENE; A LOVE EPISODE; or, UNE PAGE 
D’AMOUR. By Emile Zola , author of “L’Assommoir.” 
One large square duodecimo volume, price 75 cents in paper 
cover, or $1.25 in Morocco Cloth, Black and Gold. 

THE ABBE’S TEMPTATION; or, LA FAUTE DE 
L’ABBE MOURET. By Emile Zola , author of “ L’Assom- 
moir.” One large square duodecimo volume, price 75 cents 
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THE FOLLOWING BOOKS ARE SEVENTY-FIVE CENTS EACH. 

MAJOR JONES’S COURTSHIP. With Illustrations by Darley. 

MAJOR JONES’S SKETCHES OF TRAVEL. Full of Illustrations. 

MAJOR JONES’S CHRONICLES OF PINEVILLE. Illustrated. 

THE ADVENTURES OF CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. Illustrated. 

POLLY PEABLOSSOM’S WEDDING. With Illustrations. 

WIDOW RUGBY’S HUSBAND. Full of Illustrations. 

THE BIG BEAR OF ARKANSAS. Illustrated by Darley. 

WESTERN SCENES; or, LIFE ON THE PRAIRIE. Illustrated. 

STREAKS OF SQUATTER LIFE AND FAR WESTERN SCENES. Illustrated 
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STRAY SUBJECTS ARRESTED AND BOUND OVER. Illustrated. 

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CHARCOAL SKETCHES. By Joseph C. Neal. Illustrated. 

PETER FABER’S MISFORTUNES. By Joseph C. Neal. Illustrated. 

PETER PLODDY AND OTHER ODDITIES. By Joseph C. Neal. 

YANKEE AMONG THE MERMAIDS. By William E. Burton. 

THE DRAMA IN POKERVILLE. By J. M. Field. Illustrated. 

NEW ORLEANS SKETCH BOOK. With Illustrations by Darley. 

THE DEER STALKERS. By Frank Forrester. Illustrated. 

THE QUORNDON HOUNDS. By Frank Forrester. Illustrated. 

MY SHOOTING BOX. By Frank Forrester. Illustrated. 

THE WARWICK WOODLANDS. By Frank Forrester. Illustrated. 
ADVENTURES OF CAPTAIN FARRAGO. By H. H. Brackenridge. 
ADVENTURES OF MAJOR O’REGAN. By H. H. Brackenridge. 

SOL SMITH’S THEATRICAL APPRENTICESHIP. Illustrated. 

SOL SMITH’S THEATRICAL JOURNEY-WORK. Illustrated. 

QUARTER RACE IN KENTUCKY. With Illustrations by Darley. 

THE MYSTERIES OF THE BACKWOODS. By T. B. Thorpe. 

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SAM SLICK’S YANKEE YARNS AND YANKEE LETTERS. 

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AUNT PATTY’S SCRAP BAG. By Mrs. Caroline Lee Hentz. 

ABOVE BOOKS ARE SEVENTY-FIVE CENTS EACH. 

RANCY COTTEM’S COURTSHIP. By author of “Major Jones’s Courtship,” 
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THE AMERICAN JOE MILLER. With 100 Engravings. Price 50 cents. 


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PETERSONS’ DOLLAR SERIES 

OF GOOD AND NEW NOVELS, ARE TIIE BEST, LARGEST, AND 

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Price One Dollar Each , in Cloth, Black and Gold, 


A. WOMAN’S THOUGHTS ABOUT WOMEN. By Miss Mulock. Every Lady wants it 
?WO WAYS TO MATRIMONY ; or. Is It Love, or. False Pride ? 

THE STORY OF “ELIZABETH.” By Miss Thackeray, daughter of W. M. Thackeray. 
FLIRTATIONS IN FASHIONABLE LIFE. By Catharine Sinclair. 

THE MATCHMAKER. A Society Novel. By Beatrice Reynolds. Full of freshness and truth. 
ROSE DOUGLAS, The Bonnie Scotch Lass. A companion to “Family Pride.” 

THE EARL’S SECRET. A Charming and Sentimental Love Story. By Miss Pardoe. 
FAMILY SECRETS. A companion to “ Family Pride,” and a very fascinating work. 

A LONELY LIFE. A Thrilling Novel in Real Life. 

THE MACDERMOTS OF BALLYCLORAN. An Exciting Novel by Anthony Trollope. 
THE FAMILY SAVE-ALL. With Economical Receipts for Breakfast, Dinner and Tea. 
SELF-SACRIFICE. A Charming and Exciting work. By author of “Margaret Maitland.” 
THE PRIDE OF LIFE. A Love Story. By Lady Jane Scott. 

THE RIVAL BELLES; or. Life in "Washington. By author “Wild Western Scenes.” 
THE CLYFFARDS OF CLYFFE. By James Payn, author of “ Lost Sir Massingberd.” 
THE ORPHAN’S TRIALS ; or. Alone in a Great City. By Emerson Bennett. 

THE HEIRESS OF SWEETWATER. A Love Story, abounding with exciting scenes. 
THE REFUGEE. A delightful book, full of food for laughter, and sterling information. 

LOST SIR MASSINGBERD. A Love Story. By author of “The Clyffards of Clyffe.” 
CORA BELMONT; or, THE SINCERE LOVER. A True Story of the Heart. 

THE LOVER’S TRIALS ; or. The Days Before the Revolution. By Mrs. Denison 
MY SON’S "WIFE. A strong, bright, interesting, and charming Novel. By author of “ Caste.” 
AUNT PATTY’S SCRAP BAG. By Mrs. Caroline Lee Hentz, author of “Linda,” “Rena.” 
SARATOGA ! AND THE FAMOUS SPRINGS. An Indian Tale of Frontier Life. 
COUNTRY QUARTERS. A Charming Love Story. By the Countess of Blessington. 
SELF-LOVE. A Book for Young Ladies, with their prospects in Single and Married Life contrasted. 
LOVE AND DUTY. A Charming Love Story. By Mrs. Hubback. 

THE DEVOTED BRIDE; or, FAITH* AND FIDELITY. A Love Story. 

THE HEIRESS IN THE FAMILY. By author of “ Marrying for Money.” 

COLLEY CIBBER’S LIFE OF EDWIN FORREST, with Reminiscences. 

THE MAN OF THE WORLD. This is full of style, elegance of diction, and force of thought. 
OUT OF THE DEPTHS. A Woman’s Story and a Woman’s Book, the Story of a Woman’s Life 
THE QUEEN’S FAVORITE ; or. The Price of a Crown. A Romance of Don Juan. , 
THE CAVALIER. A Novel. By G. P. R. James, author of “ Lord Montagu’s Page.” 

THE RECTOR’S WIFE; or, THE VALLEY OF A HUNDRED FIRES. 
THE COQUETTE ; or, LIFE AND LETTERS OF ELIZA WHARTON. 
WOMAN’S WRONG. A Book for Women. By Mrs. Eiloart. A Novel of great power. 
HAREM LIFE IN EGYPT AND CONSTANTINOPLE. By Emmeline Lott. 
THE OLD PATROON ; or, THE GREAT VAN BROEK PROPERTY. 
THE BEAUTIFUL WIDOW. TREASON AT HOME. PANOLA! 

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by all Booksellers , News Agents, and on all Railroad trains, at One Dollar each , or copies of any one , 
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GEORGE W. M. REYNOLDS’ WORKS. 

NEW AND BEAUTIFUL EDITIONS, JUST READY. 

Each Work is complete and unabridged, in one large volume. 

All or any will be sent free of postage, everywhere, to all, on receipt of remittances. 

Mysteries of the Court of Eondon ; being THE MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF 

GEORGE THE THIRD, with the Life and Times of the PRINCE OF WALES, afterward GEORG! 
THE FOURTH. Complete in one large volume, bound in cloth, price $1.75 ; or in paper cover, price $1.00. 

Rose Foster ; or, the “ Second Series of the Mysteries of the Court of London.” Complete in on» 
large volume, bound in cloth, price $1.75 ; or in paper cover, price $1.50. 

Caroline of Bruiiswick; or, the “Third Series of the Mysteries of the Court of LondonrJ 
Complete in one large volume, bound in cloth, price $1.75 ; or in paper cover, price $i .00. 

Venetia Trelawney ; beingthe “Fourth Seriesor final conclusion of the Mysteries of theCourt 
of London.” Complete in one large volume, bound in cloth, price $1.75; or in paper cover, price $1.00. 

Lord Saxondale; or, The Court of Queen Victoria. Complete in one large volume, bound in 
cloth, price $1.75 ; or in paper cover, price $1.00. 

Count Ghristoval. The “Sequel to Lord Saxondale.” Complete in one large volume, bound 
in cloth, price $1.75 ; or in paper cover, price $1.00. 

Rosa Earn her t; or, The Memoirs of an Unfortunate Woman. Complete in one large volume, 
bound in cloth, price $1.75 ; or in paper cover, price $1.00. 

Joseph Wiirnot; 5r, The Memoirs of a Man Servant. Complete in one large volume, bound in 
cloth, price $1.75 ; or in paper cover, price $1.00. 

The Banker’s Dang 3a ter. A Sequel to “Joseph Wilmot.” Complete in one large volume, 
bound in cloth, price $1.75; or in paper cover, price $1.00. 

The Rye-Mouse IPlot; or, Ruth, the Conspirator’s Daughter. Complete in one large volume, 
bound in cloth, price $1.75 ; or in paper cover, price $1.00. 

The Necromancer. Being the Mysteries of the Court of Henry the Eighth. Complete ia 
me large volume, bound in cloth, price $1.75 ; or in paper cover, price $1.00. 

Mary Price ; or, The Adventures of a Servant Maid. One vol., cloth, price $1 .75 ; or in ]«aper. $1 0Q 
Eustace Quentin. A “ Sequel to Mary Price.” One vol., cloth, price $1.75 ; or in paper, $1.0Q 
The Mysteries of the Court of Naples. Trice $1.00 in paper cover; or $1.75 in cloth 
Kenneth. A Romance of the Highlands. One vol., cloth, price $1.75; or in paper cover, $1.00. 
Wallace: tile Hero of Scotland. Illustrated with 38 plates. Paper, $1X0; cloth, $1.75 
The Gipsy Chief. Beautifully Illustrated. Price $1.00 in paper cover, or $1.75 in cloth. 
Robert Brnce; the Hero Ming of Scotland. Illustrated. Paper, $1.00; cloth. $1.75. 
The Opera Dancer; or, The Mysteries of London Life. Price 75 cents. 

Isabella Vincent; or, The Two Orphans. One large octavo volume. Price 75 cents. 
Vivian Bertram ; or, A Wife’s Honor. A Sequel to “Isabella Yincent.” Price 75 cents. 
The Countess of ILascelles. The Continuation to “ Yivian Bertram.” Price 75 cents. 
Duke of Marchnaont. Being the Conclusion of “ The Countess of Lascelles.” Price 75 cent& 
The Child of Waterloo; or, The Horrors of the Battle Field. Price 75 cents. 

Pichwich. Abroad. A Companion to the “Pickwick Papers,” by “Boz.” Price 75 cents. 
The Countess and the Page. One large octavo volume. Price 75 cents. 

Mary Stuart, Queen of Scots. Complete in one large octavo volume. Price 75 cent#. 
The Soldier’s Wife. Illustrated. One large octavo volume. Price 75 cents. 

May Middleton ; or, The History of a Fortune. In one large octavo volume. Price 75 cental 
The Loves of the Harem. One large octavo volume. Price 75 cents. 

Ellen Percy; or, The Memoirs of an Actress. One large octavo volume. Price 76 oenta. 

The discarded Queen. One large octavo volume. Price 75 cents. 

Agnes Evelyn; or, Beauty and Pleasure. One large octavo volume. Price 75 cents. 

The Massacre of Glencoe. One large octavo volume. Price 75 cents. 

The Parricide ; or, Youth’s Career in Crime. Beautifully Illustrated. Trice 75 cents. 
Fipriua; or. The Secrets of a Picture Gallery. One volume. Price 50 cents. 
The Ruined Gamester. With Illustrations. One large octavo volume. Price 50 cent*. 
Eife in Paris. Handsomely illustrated. One large octavo volume. Price 50 cents. 

Glififord and the Actress. One large octavo volume. Price 50 cents. 

Edgar Montrose. One large octavo volume. Price 50 cents. 

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ALEXANDER DUMAS’ GREAT WORKS. 

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The Count off Monte-Cristo. With elegant illustrations, and portraits of Edmond Dantea 
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Edmond Dantes. A Sequel to the “Count of Monte-Cristo.” In one large octavo volume. 
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The Countess off Mosrte-Cristo. With a portrait of the “Countess of Monte-Cristo ” oa 
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The Three Guardsmen; or. The Three Mousquetaires. In one large octavo 
volume. Price 75 cents in paper cover, or a finer edition in cloth, for $1.76. 

Twenty Years After. A Sequel to the “ Three Guardsmen.” In one large octavo volume. 
Price 75 cents in paper cover, or a finer edition, in one volume, cloth, for $1.75. 

Bragelonne; the Son off Attaos. Being the continuation of “ Twenty Years After.” In 
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The Iron Mask. Being the continuation of the “Three Guardsmen,” “Twenty Years After,” 
and “ Bragelonne.” In one large octavo volume. Paper cover, $1.00; or in cloth, for $1.75. 

liOuise La Valliere; or, the Second Series of the “Iron Mask,” and end of “The Three 
Guardsmen ” series. In one large octavo volume. Paper cover, $1.00 ; or in cloth, for $1.75. 

The Memoirs of a Physician ; or, The Secret History of the Court of Louis the Fifteenth. 
Beautifully Illustrated. In one large octavo volume. Paper cover, $1.00 ; or in cloth, for $1.75. 

The Queen’S Necklace; or, The “Second Series of the Memoirs of a Physician.” In one 
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Six Years hater; or, Taking of the Bastile. Being the “Third Series of the Memoirs of a 
Physician.” In one large octavo volume. Paper cover, $1.00; or in cloth, for $1.75. 

Countess Of Charily; or, The Fall of the French Monarchy. Being the “Fourth Series of 
the Memoirs of a Physician.” In one large octavo volume. Paper cover, $1.00; or in cloth, for $1.75. 

Antlree de Taverney. Being the “ Fifth Series of the Memoirs of a Physician.” In one 
iarge octavo volume. Paper cover, price $1.00 ; or in one volume, cloth, for $1.75. 

The Chevalier; or, the “Sixth Series and final conclusion of the Memoirs of a Physician 
Series.” In one large octavo volume. Price $1.00 in paper cover; or $1.75 in cloth. 

Joseph Balsamo. Dumas’ greatest work, from which the play of “Joseph Balsamo” wag 
dramatized, by his son, Alexander Dumas, Jr. Price $1.00 in paper cover, or $1.50 in cloth. 

The Conscript; or, The ©ays of the First Napoleon. An Historical Novel. In 
one large duodecimo volume. Price $1.50 in paper cover; or in cloth, for $1.75. 

Camille; or. The Fate of a Coquette. (“ La Dame aux Camelias.”) This is the only 
true and complete translation of “ Camille,” and it is from this translation that the Play of “Camille,” 
and the Opera of “La Traviata” was adapted to the Stage. Paper cover, price $1.50; or in cloth, $1.75. 

Fove and Fiber ty; or, A Man of the People. (Rene Besson.) A Thrilling Story 
of the French Revolution of 1792-93. In one large duodecimo volume, paper cover, $1.50; cloth, $1.75. 

The Adventures of a Marquis. Paper cover, $1.00; or in one volume, cloth, for $1.75. 

The Forty-Five Guardsmen. Paper cover, $1.00; or in one volume, cloth, for $1.75. 

Diana of Meridor. Paper cover, $1.00; or in one volume, cloth, for $1.75. 

The Iron Hand. Price $1.00 in paper cover, or in one volume, cloth, for $1.75. 

Isabel off Bavaria, Q,neen of France. In one large octavo volume. Price 75 cents. 

Annette; or. The Fady of the Pearls. A Companion to “Camille.” Price 75 cents, 

The Fallen Angel. A Story of Love and Life in Paris. One large volume. Price 75 cents. 

The Mohicans of Paris. In one large octavo volume. Price 75 cents. 

The Horrors off Paris. In one large octavo volume. Price 75 cents. 

The Man with Five Wives. In one large octavo volume.^ Price 75 cents. 

Sketches it* France. In one large octavo volume. Price 75 cents. 

Felina de Chambure; or. The Female Fiend. Price 75 cents. 

The Twin Fieutcnants; or, The Soldier’s Bride. Price 75 cents. 

Madame de Chamblay. In one large octavo volume. Price 50 cents. 

The Black Tulip. In one large octavo volume. Price 50 cents. 

The Corsican Brothers. In one large octavo volume. Price 50 cents. 

George; or. The Planter of the Isle of France. Price 50 cents. 

The Fount of Moret. In one large octavo volume. Price 50 cents. 

The Marriage Verdict. In one large octavo volume. Price 50 cents. 

Buried Alive. In one large octavo volume. Price 25 cents. 

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Mrs. Southworth’s Works. 


EACH IS IN ONE LARGE DUODECIMO VOLUME, MOROCCO CLOTH, GILT BACK, PRICE $1.75 EACH. 


AH or any will be sent free of postage, everywhere, to all, on receipt of remittances. 


ISHMAEL ; or, IN THE DEPTHS. (Being “Self-Made; or, Out of Depths.”! 
SELF-RAISED; or, From the Depths. The Sequel to “Ishmael.” 

THE PHANTOM WEDDING; or, the Fall of the House of Flint. 

THE “MOTHER-IN-LAW;” or, MARRIED IN HASTE. 

THE MISSING BRIDE; or, MIRIAM, THE AVENGER. 
t VICTOR’S TRIUMPH. The Sequel to “A Beautiful Fiend.” 

A BEAUTIFUL FIEND; or, THROUGH THE FIRE. 

THE LADY OF THE ISLE; or, THE ISLAND PRINCESS. 

FAIR PLAY; or, BRITOMARTE, THE MAN-HATER. 

HOW HE WON HER. The Sequel to “ Fair Play.” 

THE CHANGED BRIDES ; or, Winning Her Way. 

THE BRIDE’S FATE. The Sequel to “The Changed Brides.” 
CRUEL AS THE GRAVE; or, Hallow Eve Mystery. 

TRIED FOR HER LIFE. The Sequel to “ Cruel as the Grave.” 

THE CHRISTMAS GUEST; or, The Crime and the Curse. 

THE LOST HEIR OF LINLITHGOW; or, The Brothers. 

A NOBLE LORD. The Sequel to “The Lost Heir of Linlithgow.” 
THE FAMILY DOOM; or, THE SIN OF A COUNTESS. 

THE MAIDEN WIDOW. The Sequel to “The Family Doom.” 

THE GIPSY’S PROPHECY; or, The Bride of an Evening. 

THE FORTUNE SEEKER; or, Astrea, The Bridal Day. 


THE THREE BEAUTIES; or, SHANNONDALE. 

FALLEN PRIDE; or, THE MOUNTAIN GIRL’S LOVE. 

THE DISCARDED DAUGHTER; or, The Children of the Isle. 

THE PRINCE OF DARKNESS; or, HICKORY HALL. 

THE TWO SISTERS ; or, Virginia and Magdalene. 

THE FATAL MARRIAGE; or, ORVILLE DEVILLE. 

>NDIA; or, THE PEARL OF PEARL RIVER. THE CURSE OF CLIFTON 
THE WIDOW’S SON; or, LEFT ALONE. 

THE MYSTERY OF DARK HOLLOW. 

ALLWORTH ABBEY; or, EUDORA. 

THE BRIDAL EVE; or, ROSE ELMER. 

VIVIA ; or, THE SECRET OF POWER. 

THE HAUNTED HOMESTEAD. 


THE WIFE’S VICTORY 
THE SPECTRE LOVER. 

THE ARTIST’S LOVE. 
THE FATAL SECRET. 

LOVE’S LABOR WON. 
THE LOST HEIRESS. 


BRIDE OF LLEWELLYN. THE DESERTED WIFE. RETRIBUTION 


Mrs. Southworth’s works will he found for sale by all Booksellers . 

703*" Copies of any one, or more of Mrs. Southworth’s works, will he sent to anj 
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NEW BOOKS BY THE VERY BEST AUTHORS. 

The following New Books are printed on tinted paper, and are issued in uniform style, 
in square 12 mo. form. Price Fifty Cents each in Paper Cover, or One Dollar each in Morocco 
Cloth , Black and Gold. They are Twenty-seven of the best and most charming Novels ever printed. 


BONNE-MARIE, A Love Story. By Henry Greville, author of “ Dosia,” “ Marrying OS' 
a Daughter,” “ Saveli’s Expiation,” “ Markof,” “ Sonia,” and “ Gabrielle.” 

MISS MARGERY’S ROSES. A Charming Love Story. By Robert C. Meyers. 

DOURNOF. A Russian Story. By Henry Gr'eville , author of “Dosia,” “Saveli’s Expia- 
tion,” “ Bonne-Marie,” “ Philomene’s Marriages,” and “ Marrying Off a Daughter.” 

“ THEO.” A Love Story. By Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett, author of “ Kathleen.” 

KATHLEEN. A Love Story. By Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett, author of “ Theo,” 
“ Pretty Polly Pemberton,” “ Miss Crespigny,” “ A Quiet Life,” etc. 

MISS CRESPIGNY. A Love Story. By Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett, author of “ Theo.” 

SONIA. A Russian Love Story. By Henry Greville, author of “ Marrying Off a Daughter,” 
“ Dosia,” “ Markof,” etc. Translated from the French, by Mary Neal Sherwood. 

A QUIET LIFE. By Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett , author of “ Kathleen,” and “ Theo.” 

A FRIEND; or, L’AMIE. By Henry Gr'eville, author of “Sonia,” “ Saveli’s Expiation,” 
“ Markof,” and “ Marrying Off a Daughter.” Translated by Miss Helen Stanley. 

PRETTY POLLY PEMBERTON. A Love Story. By Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnell. 

A WOMAN’S MISTAKE; or, JACQUES DF TREVANNES. A Charming Love Story. 
By Madame Angele Dussaud. Translated by Mary Neal Sherwood. 

SYBIL BROTHERTON. A Novel. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. 

FATHER TOM AND THE POPE ; or, A NIGHT AT THE VATICAN. With Full Page 
Illustrations of the scenes that took place there between the Pope and Father Tom. 

MADELEINE. A Love Story. By Jules Sandeau. Crowned by the French Academy. 

SAVELI’S EXPIATION. By Henry Greville, author of “ Dosia.” A dramatic and power- 
ful novel of Russian life. Translated from the French , by Mary Neal Sherwood . 

TWO WAYS TO MATRIMONY ; or, IS IT LOVE ? or, FALSE PRIDE. 

GABRIELLE; or, THE H' USE OF MAUREZE. Translated from the French of Henry 
Gr'eville, author of “Saveli’s Expiation,” “ Markof,” “Sonia,” “Dosia,” “A Friend.” 

THE STORY OF “ELIZABETH.” By Miss Thackeray, daughter of W. M. Thackeray. 

THE DAYS OF MADAME POMPADOUR; r, MADAME POMPADOUR’S GARTER. A 
Romance of the Reign of Louis XV. By Gabrielle De St. Andre. 

CARMEN. By Prosper Merimee. From which the opera of “ Carmen ” was dramatized. 

THE MATCHMAKER. A Charming Novel. By Beatrice Reynolds. All the pictures, 
characters, and scenes in it, have all the freshness of life, and vitality of truth. 

THE RED HILL TRAGEDY. By Mr . Emma D. E. N. Southworth. 

THE AMOURS OF PHILLIPPE. “ P illippe’s Love Affairs.” By Octave FeuilleL 

FANCHON, THE CRICKET; or, LA PETITE FADETTE. By George Sand. 

BESSIE’S SIX LOVERS. A Charming Love Story, of the purest and best kind. 

THAT GIRL OF MINE. A Love Story. By the author of 11 That Lover of Mine.” 

THAT LOVER OF MINE. By the author of u That Girl of Mine.” 

Above are 50 Cents each in paper cover, or $1.00 each in cloth. 

Above Books are for sale by all Booksellers and News Agents, or copies of any one or 

all of them, will be sent to any one, at once, post-paid, on remitting price to the publishers, 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, Philadelphia, Pa. 


MAJOR JONES’S COURTSHIP. 

WITH 21 FULL PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS. 


BY MAJOR JOSEPH JONES. 

(OF PIN EVILLE, GEORGIA.) 

Author of “Raney Cottem’s Courtship “ Major Jones’s Chronicles of RineviUe,” 
“Major Jones’s Sketches of Travel,” etc. 



ONE VOLUME, SQUARE 12mo., PAPER COVER. PRICE 75 CENTS. 


Major Jones's Courtship is for sale by all Booksellers and News Agents, or copies of it will 
be sent to any one, at once, post-paid, on remitting Seventy-five cents in a letter to the publishers, 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, Philadelphia, Pa. 






















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